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THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


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'if' 


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QUEEN  MARIE-THÉRÈSE, 


IVOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


THE 

COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 

/ 

BY 

IMBERT  DE  SAINT-AMAND 


TRANSLATED  BY 

ELIZABETH  GILBERT  MARTIN 


WITH  PORTRAITS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 
1900 


COPYRIGHT,  1893,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


r'  1  TS-'fa  . 

f  -71.13,-. 
f  le  7  I  - 


944:055 

I32V 


CONTENTS 


Introduction .  1 

OHAPTEK 

"  I.  The  Château  of  Versailles .  29 

II.  Louis  XIV.  and  his  Court  in  1682 .  41 

III.  Queen  Marie  Thérèse .  64 

IV.  Madame  de  Montespan  in  1682  .  67 

V.  Madame  de  Maintenon  in  1682  .  86 

VI.  The  Bavarian  Dauphiness .  103 

VII.  The  Marriage  of  Madame  de  MIaintenon .  117 

VIII.  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  Apartment .  128 

IX.  The  Marquise  de  Catlus .  143 

X.  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  Gentlewomen 

OF  Saint-Cyr .  167 

XI.  The  Duchess  of  Orleans .  167 

XII.  Madame  de  Maintenon  as  a  Political  Woman  . .  183 

XIII.  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  Letters .  198 

XIV.  The  Old  Age  of  Madame  de  Montespan .  207 

V 

218574 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CllAl’TEB  PAGE 

XV.  The  Daughters  or  Louis  XIV .  215 

XVI.  The  Duchess  of  Burgundy .  229 

Conclusion.  The  Tombs .  248 


Index 


269 


LIST  OF  PORTRAITS 


Qüeen  Marie  Thérèse . Frontispiece 

Mademoiselle  de  La  Valliêrb . 64 


Madame  de  Montbspan . 128 

Madame  de  Maintenon . 192 


518574 


.? 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


INTRODUCTION 


I 


ARELY  has  a  city  presented  a  spectacle  so 


JL\)  striking  as  that  afforded  by  Versailles  during 
the  struggle  of  the  army  against  the  Commune. 
Between  the  grand  century  and  our  epoch,  between 
the  majesty  of  old  France  and  the  intestine  broils  of 
new  France,  between  the  dismal  horrors  of  which 
Paris  was  the  scene  and  the  radiant  souvenirs  of 
the  city  of  the  Sun-King,  thei’e  was  a  contrast  as 
painful  as  it  was  startling.  Those  avenues  where 
one  might  see  the  head  of  the  government  and  the 
illustrious  defeated  man  of  Reichshoffen,  that  place 
of  arms  encumbered  with  cannons,  those  red  flags, 
sad  trophies  of  the  civil  war,  which  were  taken  to 
tlie  Assembly  as  tokens  of  mourning  as  well  as 
of  victory,  that  magnificent  palace  whence  seemed 
to  issue  a  suppliant  voice  adjuring  our  soldiers  to 
save  so  fair  a  heritage  of  historic  splendors  and 
national  grandeurs,  all  filled  the  soul  with  profound 
emotion. 


1 


2 


THE  COUET  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


At  that  hour  of  anguish  when  men  experienced  a 
hut  too  well-founded  anxiety  as  to  what  was  to  be¬ 
come  of  the  hostages;  when  they  knew  that  Paris 
was  the  prey  of  flames,  and  wondered  whether  a  heap 
of  cinders  might  not  be  all  that  would  remain  of  the 
modern  Babylon,  the  capital  of  the  world, — 'the  Pan¬ 
theon  of  all  our  glories  seemed  to  reproach  us  and 
excite  us  to  remorse.  The  France .  of  Charlemagne 
and  of  Saint  Louis,  of  Louis  XIV.  and  of  Napoleon, 
protested  against  that  odious  France  which  the  men 
of  the  Commune  had  the  pretension  to  call  into  ex¬ 
istence  on  the  ruins  of  our  honor.  W e  seemed  then 
the  sport  of  an  evil  dream.  There  was  something 
strange  and  unwonted  in  the  noise  of  arms  which 
disturbed  the  approaches  of  this  chateau,  the  calm 
and  majestic  necropolis  of  absolute  monarchy,  whose 
chapel  seemed,  as  one  might  say,  to  be  its  cata¬ 
falque  ! 

Even  in  those  cruel  days  whose  souvenirs  will 
never  be  effaced  from  my  memory,  I  was  incessantly 
haunted  by  the  shade  of  Louis  XIV.  I  had  at  the 
time  a  desire  to  revisit  his  apartments.  They  were 
partially  occupied  by  the  personnel  of  the  Ministry 
of  Justice  and  the  Assembly  Committees.  But  the 
chamber  of  the  great  King  had  been  respected,  and 
no  functionary  had  ventured  to  transform  the  sanc¬ 
tuary  of  royalty  into  an  office.  In  our  democratic 
century  I  did  not  contemplate  without  respect  this 
chamber  where  the  sovereign  par  excellence  died  like 
a  king  and  a  Christian.  What  reflections  did  not 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


the  incomparable  Gallery  of  Mirrors  arouse  in  me  ! 
At  intervals  of  several  days  it  had  been  a  hall  of 
triumph,  an  ambulance,  and  a  dormitory.  There, 
surrounded  by  all  the  German  princes,  our  conqueror 
had  proclaimed  the  new  German  Empire.  There  the 
wounded  Prussians  of  Buzenval  had  been  carried. 
There  the  deputies  of  the  National  Assembly  had 
slept  in  the  early  days  of  their  coming  to  Versailles. 

Sad  vicissitudes  of  destiny!  This  glittering  gal¬ 
lery,  this  asylum  of  monarchical  splendors,  this  place 
of  ecstasy,  of  apotheosis,  where  the  pencil  of  Lebrun 
has  revived  the  splendors  of  paganism  and  mythology, 
this  modern  Olympus  where  the  imagination  evokes 
so  many  brilliant  phantoms,  where  French  aristocracy 
comes  to  life  again  with  its  elegance  and  pride,  its 
luxury  and  courage,  this  gallery  of  fêtes  which  has 
been  crossed  by  so  many  great  men,  so  many  famous 
beauties,  in  what  painful  circumstances,  alas!  was 
it  granted  me  to  revisit  it.  From  one  of  the  win¬ 
dows  I  saw  that  superb  view  in  which  Louis  XIV. 
perceived  nothing  which  was  not  himself;  for  this 
garden,  created  by  him,  filled  the  entire  horizon. 
My  eyes  rested  on  this  vanquished  nature;  these 
waters  brought  hither  by  dint  of  art,  and  gushing  in 
none  but  regular  designs;  on  this  vegetable  architec¬ 
ture  which  prolongs  and  completes  the  architecture 
of  stone  and  marble;  on  these  shrubs  which  grow 
with  docility  under  line  and  square.  I  compared 
the  harmonious  regularity  of  the  park  to  the  inco¬ 
herent  art  of  revolutionary  epochs,  and  at  the  mo- 


4 


THE  COU  B  T  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


ment  when  the  star  which  Louis  XIV.  had  taken 
for  his  device  was  about  to  sink  below  the  horizon, 
like  the  symbol  of  departed  royalty,  I  said  to  my¬ 
self  :  This  sun  will  reappear  to-morrow  as  radiant  as 
superb.  O  France,  will  it  be  the  same  with  thy 
glory? 

I  was  then  preoccupied  with  him  whom  Pelisson 
styled  the  visible  miracle,  the  potentate  in  whose 
honor  the  possibilities  of  marble,  bronze,  and  incense 
were  exhausted,  and  who,  to  use  one  of  Bossuet’s 
expressions,  has  not  even  had  possession  of  his 
sepulchre.  Has  God,  I  asked  myself,  pardoned  him 
that  Asiatic  pride  which  made  him  a  sort  of  Belshaz¬ 
zar  or  Christian  Nebuchadnezzar?  What  notion  does 
the  sovereign  who  sang  with  tears  of  emotion  the 
hymns  composed  in  his  honor  by  Quinault,  now 
entertain  of  earthly  grandeurs?  Is  his  soul  still 
affected  by  our  interests,  our  passions,  or  is  this 
world  a  grain  of  sand,  an  atom  in  the  immense  uni¬ 
verse,  too  paltry  to  win  attention  from  those  who 
have  fathomed  the  mysteries  of  eternity?  What  does 
the  great  King  think  of  his  Versailles,  the  temple  of 
absolute  royalty,  which  was  to  be  its  tomb  before 
time  should  have  darkened  its  gilded  ceilings  ? 
What  is  his  opinion  of  our  discords,  our  miseries, 
and  our  humiliations  ?  He  who  retained  so  bitter,  a 
memory  of  the  troubles  of  the  Fronde,  what  judg¬ 
ment  does  he  pass  on  the  excesses  of  existing  democ¬ 
racy  ?  Did  his  French  and  royal  soul  shudder  when, 
in  this  hall  decorated  with  pictures  of  his  triumphs. 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


the  new  master  of  Strasbourg  and  Metz  restored  that 
empire  of  Germany  which  France  had  taken  centuries 
to  destroy  ?  What  a  contrast  between  our  reverses 
and  the  superb  frescoes  which  adorn  the  ceiling! 
Victory  extends  its  rapid  wings.  Renown  blows 
its  trumpet.  Borne  upon  a  cloud  and  followed  by 
Terror,  Louis  XIV.  holds  the  thunderbolt  in  his 
hands.  The  Rhine,  which  had  been  resting  on  its 
urn,  rises  in  amazement  at  the  speed  with  which  the 
monarch  traverses  the  waters,  and  drops  its  helm 
through  fright.  Conquered  cities  are  personified  as 
weeping  captives.  This  wounded  lion  is  Spain; 
Germany  is  that  eagle  flung  to  earth.  Even  while 
gazing  mournfully  at  these  dazzling  and  ostentatious 
paintings,  I  recalled  these  Avords  of  Massillon: 
“  What  remains  to  us  of  these  great  names  which 
formerly  played  so  brilliant  a  part  in  the  universe  ? 
We  know  what  they  were  during  the  little  interval 
their  splendor  lasted,  but  who  knows  what  they  are 
in  the  eternal  region  of  the  dead?” 

With  my  mind  full  of  these  thoughts  I  descended 
that  marble  staircase  at  the  head  of  which  Louis 
XIV.  had  awaited  the  aged  Coudé,  enfeebled  by 
years  and  wounds,  and  mounting  it  but  slowly  :  “  Do 
not  hurry  yourself,  cousin,”  said  the  monarch  to  him, 
“  one  cannot  go  up  very  fast  when,  like  you,  he  is 
burdened  by  so  many  laurels.” 

In  the  evening  I  wished  to  see  again  the  statue  of 
the  great  King  whose  memory  had  so  keenly  im¬ 
pressed  me  throughout  the  day.  The  night  was 


6 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


serene.  Its  sweet  and  meditative  beauty  inspired 
regret  for  the  furies  and  disturbances  of  men.  Its 
silence  was  interrupted  by  the  noise  of  the  fratrici¬ 
dal  artillery  which  thundered  in  the  distance.  It 
seemed  to  be  in  honor  of  Louis  XIV.  that  the  senti¬ 
nels  mounted  guard  in  this  place  where  he  had  so 
often  reviewed  his  troops.  By  the  light  of  the  stars 
I  contemplated  the  majestic  statue  of  him  who  was 
more  than  a  king.  On  his  colossal  horse  he  ap¬ 
peared  to  me  like  the  glorious  personification  of  the 
right  which  has  been  called  divine. 

Republican  or  monarchical,  France  should  disown 
no  part  of  a  past  like  this.  The  history  of  such  a 
sovereign  can  but  inspire  her  with  lofty  ideas,  with 
sentiments  worthy  of  her  and  of  him  as  well.  He 
struggled  to  the  last  against  the  powers  in  coalition, 
and  when  that  unique  word,  the  King,  was  pro¬ 
nounced  in  Europe,  every  one  knew  what  monarch 
was  intended.  Ah  !  that  statue  is  truly  the  image  of 
the  man  accustomed  to  conquer,  to  dominate,  and  to 
reign,  of  the  potentate  who  overcame  rebellion  more 
easily  with  a  glance  than  Richelieu  with  the  axe. 

Let  the  leaders  of  the  revolutionary  school  try  in 
vain  to  scratch  this  imperishable  bronze  with  their 
puny  nails.  The  mud  they  would  like  to  fling  at 
the  monument  will  not  even  reach  its  pedestal. 
That  night  when  the  cannons  of  the  Commune  were 
answering  those  of  Mont-Valérien,  the  statue  seemed 
to  me  more  imposing  than  usual.  One  might  have 
thought  it  animated  like  that  of  the  Commander. 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


The  gesture  was  somehow  haughtier  and  more  im¬ 
perious  than  in  less  troublous  times.  Staff  in  hand, 
the  great  King,  looking  toward  Paris,  seemed  to  be 
saying  to  the  insurgent  city,  like  the  marble  guest 
to  Don  Juan;  Repent. 

II 

The  profound  impression  which  was  made  on  me 
by  Versailles  during  the  days  of  the  Commune  is 
far  from  having  been  weakened  since  that  moment. 
Very  unlooked-for  circumstances  caused  the  Queen’s 
apartments  to  be  occupied  more  than  a  year  by  the 
political  administration  of  the  Ministry  of  Foreign 
Affairs.  My  modest  work-table  was  placed  for  a  year 
at  the  end  of  the  hall  of  the  Grand-Couvert,  opposite 
the  picture  which  represents  the  Doge  Imperiali 
humbling  himself  before  Louis  XIV.,  and  I  had 
time  to  reflect  on  the  strange  vicissitudes,  the  ca¬ 
prices  of  destiny,  in  consequence  of  which  the 
employees  of  the  Ministry,  among  whom  I  was, 
had  been  camped,  as  it  were,  in  the  middle  of  these 
legendary  halls. 

The  five  rooms  which  compose  the  Queen’s  apart¬ 
ment  all  possess  importance  from  the  historic  point 
of  view.  The  most  curious  souvenirs  attach  to  each 
of  them.  You  have  just  ascended  the  marble  stair¬ 
case.  There  is  a  door  at  your  right,  which  you 
enter.  It  is  the  hall  of  the  Queen’s  guards.  It 
was  here,  at  six  o’clock  in  the  morning  of  October 


8 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


G,  1789,  that  the  body-guards,  victims  of  popular 
fury,  defended  so  courageously  the  entry  to  Marie 
Antoinette’s  apartment  against  a  band  of  assassins. 
The  next  hall  is  that  of  the  Grand-Couvert,  where 
the  queens  dined  ceremoniously  in  company  with 
the  kings.  These  formal  banquets  took  place  sev¬ 
eral  times  a  week,  and  the  public  were  admitted  to 
be  spectators  of  them. 

Marie  Antoinette  had  submitted  to  this  barbarous 
custom  not  merely  when  Queen,  but  also  when 
Dauphiness.  “The  Dauphin  dined  with  her,”  says 
Madame  Campan  in  her  Memoirs,  “  and  each  house¬ 
hold  of  the  royal  family  had  its  public  dinner  every 
day.  The  ushers  admitted  everybody  who  was  neatly 
dressed  ;  this  spectacle  delighted  the  provincials  ;  at 
the  dinner  hours  one  met  nobody  on  the  staircases 
but  honest  folks  who,  after  having  seen  the  Dauphi¬ 
ness  eat  her  soup,  were  going  to  see  the  princes  eat 
their  boiled  beef,  and  who  would  then  run  breath¬ 
lessly  to  see  Mesdames  eat  their  dessert.” 

Next  to  the  hall  of  the  Grand-Couvert  comes  the 
Salon  of  the  Queen.  The  sovereign’s  drawing-room 
was  held  here,  and  the  presentations  made.  Her 
seat  was  placed  at  the  foot  of  the  hall,  on  a  platform 
covered  with  a  canopy,  the  screw-rings  of  which 
may  still  be  seen  in  the  cornice  opposite  the  win¬ 
dows.  Here  shone  the  famous  beauties  of  the  court 
of  Louis  XIV.  before  the  King  took  to  confining 
himself  to  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  apartments. 
Hither  came  incessantly  President  Hénault  and  the 


iNTiionucTiojsr 


9 


Duke  de  Luynes  to  chat  with  that  amiable  and  good 
Marie  Leczinska  in  whom  every  one  took  pleasure 
in  recognizing  the  virtues  of  a  woman  of  the  middle 
classes,  the  manners  of  a  great  lady,  and  the  dignity 
of  a  queen.  Here  Marie  Antoinette,  the  sovereign 
with  the  figure  of  a  nymph,  the  gait  of  a  goddess  on 
the  clouds,  the  sweet  yet  imperious  aspect  befitting 
the  daughter  of  Cæsars,  received,  with  that  royal  air 
of  protection  and  benevolence,  that  enchanting  pres¬ 
tige  the  wondrous  memory  of  which  foreigners  car¬ 
ried  throughout  Europe. 

The  next  room  is  that  which  evokes  more  mem¬ 
ories  than  all  the  others.  Perhaps  there  is  in  no 
other  palace  a  hall  so  adapted  to  impress  the  imagi¬ 
nation.  It  is  the  Queen’s  bed-chamber,  the  cham¬ 
ber  where  two  queens  have  died,  Marie  Thérèse 
and  Marie  Leczinska,  and  two  dauphinesses,  the 
Dauphiness  of  Bavaria  and  the  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy,  —  the  chamber  where  nineteen  princes  and 
princesses  of  the  blood  have  been  born,  among  them 
two  kings,  Philip  V.,  King  of  Spain,  and  Louis 
XV.,  King  of  France,  — the  chamber  which  for  more 
than  a  century  beheld  the  great  joys  and  supreme 
agonies  of  the  ancient  monarchy. 

This  chamber  has  been  occupied  by  six  women: 
first  by  the  virtuous  Marie  Thérèse,  who  was  in¬ 
stalled  there  May  6,  1682,  and  breathed  her  last  sigh 
there,  July  30,  of  the  following  year;  afterwards  by 
the  wife  of  the  Grand  Dauphin,  the  Bavarian  Dauphi¬ 
ness,  who  died  there  April  20,  1690,  at  the  age  of 


10 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


twenty-nine;  then  by  the  charming  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy,  who  entering  it  on  her  arrival  at  Versailles, 
brought  into  the  world  there  three  princes  of  whom 
only  the  last  one  lived  and  reigned  under  the  title 
of  Louis  XV.,  and  died  there,  February  12,  1712,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-six;  next  by  Marie  Anne  Victoire, 
Infanta  of  Spain,  who  was  affianced  to  the  young 
King  of  France,  and  who  lived  there  from  June, 
1722,  until  April,  1725,  when  the  projected  marriage 
was  broken  off  ;  next  by  the  pious  Marie  Leczinska, 
who  was  installed  in  this  chamber  December  1,  1725, 
gave  birth  there  to  her  ten  children,  lived  there  dur¬ 
ing  a  reign  of  forty-three  years,  and  died  there  June 
24,  1768,  surrounded  by  universal  veneration;  and 
finally  by  the  most  poetic  of  all  women,  by  her  who 
resumes  in  herself  all  majesties  and  all  sorrows,  all 
triumphs  and  all  humiliations,  all  joys  and  all  tears, 
by  her  whose  very  name  inspires  emotion,  tenderness, 
and  respect, —  by  Marie  Antoinette. 

During  a  period  of  nineteen  years,  from  1770  to 
1789,  she  occupied  this  chamber.  Here  were  born 
her  four  children.  Here  she  came  near  dying,  De¬ 
cember  20,  1778,  when  bringing  her  first  daughter, 
the  future  Duchess  of  Angouleme,  into  the  world. 
Custom  demanded  numerous  witnesses  at  a  sover¬ 
eign’s  lying-in.  An  ancient  and  barbarous  etiquette 
authorized  the  people  to  enter  the  King’s  palace 
under  such  circumstances.  From  early  morning  the 
approaches  to  the  château,  the  gardens,  the  galleries 
of  the  Mirrors  and  the  Œil-de-Boeuf,  the  Salons,  and 


INTRODUCTION 


11 


the  very  chamber  of  the  Queen,  had  been  invaded  by 
an  indiscreet  and  noisy  crowd.  Ragged  chimney¬ 
sweepers  climbed  upon  the  furniture  and  clung  to 
the  draperies.  This  tumult  increased  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette’s  sufferings.  She  lost  consciousness  and  for 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  could  not  be  revived.  The 
stifling  atmosphere  of  the  room  made  the  danger  still 
greater.  The  windows  had  been  listed  on  account 
of  the  season.  Louis  XVI.,  with  a  strength  which 
nothing  but  his  affection  for  Marie  Antoinette  could 
have  given  him,  succeeded  in  opening  them,  al¬ 
though  they  had  been  fastened  together  by  bands  of 
paper  from  top  to  bottom.  The  Queen  came  to  her¬ 
self,  and  her  husband  presented  her  the  newly  born 
Princess.  “Poor  little  one,”  she  said  to  her,  “you 
were  not  desired,  but  you  shall  not  be  less  dear.  A 
son  would  have  belonged  more  especially  to  the  State  ; 
you  will  be  mine,  you  shall  have  all  my  attention; 
you  will  share  my  happiness  and  lessen  my  troubles.” 

It  was  here  also  that  the  two  sons  of  the  Martyr 
King  and  Queen  saw  the  light  of  day  :  the  one,  born 
October  22,  1781,  died  June  4,  1789,  at  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  Revolution;  the  other,  born  March  27, 
1785,  under  the  title  of  Duke  of  Normandy,  was 
afterwards  styled  Louis  XVII. 

In  this  truly  memorable  chamber  began  the  long 
death  agony  of  French  royalty.  Marie  Antoinette 
was  sleeping  here  on  the  morning  of  October  6,  1789, 
when  she  was  awakened  by  the  insurrection.  At  the 
further  end  of  the  chamber,  underneath  the  panel  on 


12 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


Avliich  now  hangs  Madame  Lebrun’s  portrait  of  the 
Queen,  there  is  a  little  door  which  led,  through  an 
anteroom,  to  the  Œil-de-Bœuf,  and  thence  to  the 
King’s  apartments.  Through  it  the  unhappy  Queen, 
menaced  by  the  rioters  who  assassinated  the  body¬ 
guards,  escaped  to  seek  refuge  near  Louis  XVI.  A 
few  minutes  later,  she  left  Versailles,  never  more  to 
see  it.  Since  then,  destiny  has  not  permitted  any 
woman  to  occupy  the  apartments  of  the  Queen. 

The  year  I  spent  in  these  rooms,  so  full  of  souve¬ 
nirs,  has  left  a  strong  and  serious  impression  on  my 
mind.  Many  a  time,  in  winter  days,  at  the  hour 
when  lights  were  brought,  I  seemed  to  see,  like 
graceful  phantoms,  the  illustrious  women  who  have 
loved,  wept,  and  suffered  in  this  abode.  Between 
the  dead  and  the  living  there  is  more  intercourse 
than  people  suppose;  I  have  always  believed  that 
celebrated  personages  do  not  lose  sight,  from  the 
height  of  the  eternal  spheres,  of  those  who  evoke 
their  memory  while  essaying,  as  it  were,  to  resusci¬ 
tate  them.  Then  these  verses  of  Lamartine  seemed 
to  Teach  my  ears  like  a  faint,  mysterious  echo  :  — 

“  Ah  !  si  c’est;  vous,  ombres  chéries, 

Loin  de  la  foule,  et  loin  du  bruit, 

Revenez  ainsi,  chaque  nuit. 

Vous  mêlez  à  mes  rêveries.”  ^ 


1  Ah  !  if  it  be  you,  dear  shades, 

Far  from  the  crowd,  and  far  from  noise. 
Return  thus  every  night. 

And  mingle  with  my  reveries. 


INTRODUCTION 


13 


I  recalled  likewise  the  striking  words  of  a  priest, 
Père  Gratry  :  “  Does  not  the  human  race  permit  itself 
to  say  at  present  that  the  dead  address  detailed  dis¬ 
courses  to  us  by  a  conventional  cipher  composed  of 
physical  shocks  on  wood?  Shall  we  not  abandon 
these  puerile  illusions  in  order  to  cling  to  the  sacred 
foundation  of  presentiment  and  faith  which  lends  a 
certain  credit  to  such  chimeras?  The  human  race 
feels  and  comprehends  that  all  connection  cannot  be 
broken  off  between  us  and  those  who  preceded  us.” 

The  society  of  the  dead  consoles  the  griefs  caused 
by  that  of  the  living,  and  there  are  fewer  deceptions 
beyond  the  tomb  than  on  this  side  of  it.  During  my 
stay  at  Versailles,  I  became  especially  impassioned 
for  the  two  women  who  had  enchanted  two  different 
epochs,  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  and  Marie  Antoi¬ 
nette.  Both  of  them  paid  dear  for  the  brief  éclat  of 
their  triumph  :  one  by  an  untimely  death  which  the 
affrighted  imaginations  of  her  contemporaries  were 
inclined  to  attribute  to  the  effects  of  poison  ;  the 
other  by  captivity  and  execution.  It  seems  a  law  of 
destiny  that  all  which  goes  beyond  a  certain  medium 
in  point  of  grandeur  and  prestige  shall  soon  be 
expiated  by  exceptional  calamities.  Suffering  is  the 
inevitable  chastisement  of  all  who  become  conspicu¬ 
ous,  as  if  the  human  creature  were  as  little  made  for 
glory  as  for  happiness.  Ah!  how  many  times  I 
have  been  charmed,  moved,  fascinated,  by  these  two 
dauphinesses  who  were  the  ravishing  personification 
of  grace  and  youth  and  beauty!  I  seemed  to  see 


14 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


their  faces.  I  thought  I  heard  their  voices.  It 
seemed  a  salutary  proximity. 

This  kind  of  dwelling  with  illustrious  shades; 
this  strange  and  unlooked-for  dwelling  in  rooms 
forever  famous;  this  long  contemplation  of  a  past 
full  of  instruction  and  of  charm;  this  constant  and 
involuntary  evocation  of  figures  poetic  beyond  all 
others, —  in  a  word,  this  whole  assemblage  of  circum¬ 
stances,  both  singular  and  striking,  inspired  me  with 
the  first  idea  of  the  work  I  begin  to-day.  The  ad¬ 
vice  of  my  dear  master  and  friend,  M.  Feuillet  de 
Conches  ;  my  conversations  with  the  eminent  curator 
of  the  Museum  of  Versailles,  M.  Eudore  Soulié;  the 
assiduous  reading  of  the  learned  work  which  this 
indefatigable  investigator  has  published  under  the 
title  of  Notice, — all  confirmed  me  in  my  resolve,  and 
I  have  attempted  to  sketch  the  heroines  who  may  be 
called  the  Women  of  Versailles. 

Doubtless  their  history  is  known.  I  have  no  pre¬ 
tension  to  write  new  biographies  of  Queen  Marie 
Thérèse,  the  Marquise  de  Montespan,  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  the  mother  of  the  regent,  the  Duchess  of 
Burgundy,  the  Duchess  of  Berry,  the  sisters  de  Nesle, 
the  Marquise  de  Pompadour,  Madame  Dubarry,  the 
Princess  de  Lamballe,  Madame  Elisabeth.  But  I 
desire,  without  describing  their  entire  career,  to 
give  an  account  of  the  part  they  played  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  to  mention  with  exactness  the  apartments 
they  occupied  there,  to  outline  their  daily  existence 
in  detail,  to  restore  patiently  the  minutiæ  of  eti- 


INTEODUCTION 


15 


quette,  to  indicate  what  may  be  termed,  to  employ 
one  of  Saint-Simon’s  expressions,  the  mechanism  of 
court  life. 

What  I  wish  to  attempt  is  the  history  of  the  châ¬ 
teau  of  Versailles  by  means  of  the  women  who 
dwelt  there  from  1682,  the  epoch  when  Louis  XIV. 
definitely  fixed  his  residence  there,  until  October 
6,  1789,  the  fatal  day  when  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie 
Antoinette  left  it  to  return  no  more.  Few  periods 
are  so  curious  to  study  as  this  one  of  a  hundred  and 
seven  years.  The  sanctuary  of  absolute  monarchy 
was  to  be  its  tomb,  and  the  theatre  of  apotheoses  was 
destined  to  be  also  that  of  humiliations  and  afflic¬ 
tions. 

It  is  not  merely  the  ancient  memoirs,  those  of 
Dangeau,  Saint-Simon,  the  Princess  Palatine,  and 
Madame  de  Caylus,  for  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  ; 
those  of  the  Duke  de  Luynes,  the  advocates  Barbier 
and  Marais,  of  Duclos  and  Madame  du  Hausset,  for 
that  of  Louis  XV.  ;  of  Baron  de  Bezenval,  Madame 
Campan,  Count  de  Ségur,  and  Baroness  Oberkirch, 
for  that  of  Louis  XVI.,  to  which  we  shall  recur  in 
this  labor.  We  shall  also  make  use  of  the  patient 
investigations  of  modern  science,  the  researches  of 
Sainte-Beuve,  De  Noailles,  Lavallée,  Walckenaër, 
Feuillet  de  Conches,  Le  Roi,  Soulié,  Rousset,  Pierre 
Clément,  Campardon,  Concourt,  d’Arneth,  Lescure, 
and  many  historians,  many  distinguished  critics. 
Assuredly,  there  are  many  persons  who  are  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  all  these  historic  treasures.  I  have 


16 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


no  thought  of  instructing  such  erudite  persons,  and 
I  know  very  well  that  I  am  but  the  obscure  disciple 
of  these  masters. 

But  perhaps  there  are  some  worldly  people  who 
will  not  blame  me  for  having  studied  so  many  works 
on  their  behalf,  seeking  through  the  women  of  the 
courts  of  three  kings  the  resurrection  of  a  past  which 
present  struggles  cannot  banish  from  our  minds. 
My  desire  will  be  to  repeople  these  deserted  halls,  to 
make  the  procession  of  the  dead  file  by,  to  sum  up 
briefly  the  lessons  of  morality,  history,  psychology, 
and  religion  which  issue  from  the  most  grandiose  of 
earthly  palaces.  May  the  women  of  Versailles  be  to 
me  so  many  Ariadnes  in  this  marvellous  labyrinth! 

Ill 

Neither  Mazarin’s  nieces  nor  la  grande  Made¬ 
moiselle,  neither  Henrietta  of  England  nor  the 
Duchesses  of  La  Vallière  and  Fontafiges,  should  be 
considered  as  women  of  Versailles.  At  the  period 
when  these  heroines  were  shining  in  all  their  splen¬ 
dor,  Versailles  was  not  yet  the  official  residence  of 
the  court  and  the  seat  of  government.  We  do  not 
begin  this  study  until  1682,  the  year  when  Louis 
XIV.,  quitting  Saint-Germain,  his  habitual  abode, 
established  himself  definitively  in  the  residence 
which  he  preferred. 

During  a  century  —  from  1682  to  1789 — how 
many  curious  womanly  figures  will  appear  upon  this 


INTRODUCTION 


17 


radiant  scene!  What  vicissitudes  in  their  desti¬ 
nies!  What  singularities  and  contrasts  in  their 
characters!  ’Tis  the  good  Queen  Marie  Thérèse, 
gentle,  virtuous,  resigned,  making  herself  loved 
and  respected  by  all  honest  people.  ’Tis  the  imperi¬ 
ous  mistress,  the  proud  sultana,  the  woman  of  bril¬ 
liant,  mocking,  cutting  wit,  whose  court  is  “the 
centre  of  pleasures,  of  fortune,  of  hope  and  of  terror 
to  the  ministers  and  generals  of  the  army,  and  of 
humiliation  to  all  France,”  the  haughty,  the  all- 
powerful  Marquise  de  Montespan. 

’Tis  the  woman  wliose  character  is  an  enigma  and 
whose  life  a  romance,  who  has  known  by  turns  all 
the  extremities  of  good  and  evil  fortune,  and  who, 
with  more  rectitude  than  openness  of  heart,  more 
justice  than  grandeur,  has  at  least  the  merit  of  hav¬ 
ing  reformed  the  life  of  a  man  whose  very  passions 
had  been  extolled  as  if  divine;  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon.  ’Tis  the  Princess  Palatine,  the  wife  of  Mon¬ 
sieur  the  King’s  brother,  the  mother  of  the  future 
regent,  ugly,  correct  in  morals,  cynical  in  the  ex¬ 
pressions  of  her  correspondence,  a  frantic  German, 
railing  at  her  new  country,  impersonating  Satire  at 
the  side  of  Apotheosis,  exaggerating  in  her  letters  the 
rage  of  an  Alcestis  in  petticoats,  rustic  and  almost 
Biogenic,  but  witty,  more  pitiless,  more  caustic,  more 
vehement  than  Saint-Simon  himself,  strange  woman 
of  the  brusque,  impetuous  style  —  the  style  which, 
as  Sainte-Beuve  says,  has  a  beard  on  its  chin,  and  of 
which  one  can  hardly  say,  when  it  is  translated  from 


18 


THE  COU  BT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


German  into  French,  whether  it  most  resembles 
Rabelais  or  Luther. 

’Tis  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  the  sylph,  the 
siren,  the  enchantress  of  the  old  King,  the  Duchess 
of  Burgundy,  whose  premature  death  was  the  signal 
for  the  last  agony  of  a  court  once  so  dazzling. 

Then,  under  Louis  XV.,  ’tis  the  sisters  De  Nesle 
who  are  infuriated  for  the  heart  of  the  young  King, 
and  who  sometimes  wrangle  over  their  conquest,  and 
sometimes  unite  their  forces  to  reign  in  common. 
’Tis  the  virtuous,  the  sympathetic  Marie  Leczinska 
who  plays  the  same  honorable  but  minor  part  with 
Louis  XV.  that  Marie  Thérèse  had  done  with  Louis 
XIV.  ’Tis  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour  who,  in 
spite  of  the  subtlety  of  her  intelligence  and  the 
power  of  her  attractions,  always  remains  a  parvenue, 
a  magician  accustomed  to  all  the  enchantments,  all 
the  marvels,  all  the  refinements  of  elegance,  but  who, 
according  to  Voltaire,  her  apologist  and  courtier,  is 
after  all  nothing  more  than  a  sort  of  grisette  made 
for  the  opera  and  the  seraglio. 

’Tis  Madame  Dubarry,  a  low  courtesan  disguised 
as  a  countess,  and  destined  by  the  irony  of  fate  to 
shake  the  foundations  of  the  throne  of  Saint  Louis, 
of  Henry  IV.,  and  of  Louis  XIV.  Then,  under  the 
reign  which  is  not  the  epoch  of  scandal  and  which 
is  yet  that  of  expiation,  ’tis  Madame  Elisabeth,  a 
nature  essentially  French,  displaying  not  merely 
courage  but  gaiety  in  the  most  horrible  catastrophes, 
Madame  Elisabeth,  the  angel  that  heaven  caused  tc 


INTRODUCTION 


19 


appear  in  the  revolutionary  hell;  ’tis  the  Princess 
de  Lamballe,  the  gracious  and  touching  heroine  of 
friendship  and  duty;  ’tis  Marie  Antoinette,  whose 
mere  name  is  more  pathetic,  more  eloquent,  than 
all  words. 

In  the  careers  of  these  women  what  historical 
instructions,  and  also  what  lessons  in  psychology 
and  morals  there  are!  What  could  make  us  better 
understand  the  court,  “that  region  where  joys  are 
visible  but  false,  and  vexations  hidden  but  real,” 
the  court  “which  does  not  give  contentment  and 
which  does  prevent  its  being  found  elsewhere”?^ 
Do  not  all  the  women  of  Versailles  say  to  us: 
“  The  condition  which  is  apparently  the  happiest 
has  secret  bitternesses  which  corrupt  all  its  felicity. 
The  throne  is  like  the  lowest  place  in  being  the 
seat  of  torments  ;  superb  palaces  hide  cruel  anxieties 
like  the  roofs  of  the  poor  and  the  laborious,  and, 
lest  our  exile  should  become  too  pleasing  to  us, 
we  feel  everywhere  and  always  that  something  is 
wanting  to  our  happiness.” ^ 

A  portrait  by  Mignard,  engraved  by  Nanteuil, 
represents  the  Duchess  de  La  Valliêre  with  her  chil¬ 
dren:  Mademoiselle  de  Blois  and  the  Count  de  Ver- 
mandois.  She  looks  pensive,  and  is  holding  in  her 
hand  a  reed  pipe  at  the  end  of  which  floats  a  soap- 
bubble,  with  these  words  :  Thus  passes  the  glory  of 


1  La  Bruyère,  De  la  cour. 

2  Massillon,  Sermon  sur  les  afflictions. 


20 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


the  world.  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi.  Might  not 
this  be  the  device  of  all  the  heroines  of  Versailles? 

The  general  impression  arising  from  history  is 
that  of  melancholy.  The  life  of  every  celebrated 
woman  is  a  commentary  on  Fontaine’s  line:  — 

“  Ni  I’or  ni  la  grandeur  ne  nous  rendent  heureux.”  ^ 

All  is  brilliant  on  the  surface,  all  gloomy  in 
the  depths.  The  court  beauties  cannot  dispel  black 
care  by  waving  their  fans.  There  are  more  lees 
than  nectar  in  their  golden  banqueting-cups.  Their 
paint  does  not  hide  their  pallor,  and  tears  often 
flow  in  torrents  under  their  masks.  Just  as  splen¬ 
did  mausoleums  hide  the  worms  of  the  sepulchre 
beneath  their  ornaments  of  bronze  and  marble,  so 
these  sad  hearts,  garmented  with  brocade  and  gold, 
are  abodes  of  secret  tortures  and  excruciating  ago¬ 
nies.  They  can  all  say  with  Madame  de  Sévigné, 
who  was  nevertheless  rich,  honored,  brilliant,  and 
seemingly  happy:  “I  find  death  so  terrible  that  I 
hate  life  more  because  it  leads  me  thither  than  be¬ 
cause  of  the  thorns  which  bestrew  it.  Will  you  tell 
me  then  that  I  must  wish  to  live  forever?  Not  at 
all  ;  but  if  my  opinion  had  been  asked,  I  would  much 
rather  have  died  in  my  nurse’s  arms  ;  that  would 
have  rid  me  of  many  ennuis,  and  would  have  given 
me  heaven  very  surely  and  very  easily.”^ 


1  Neither  gold  nor  grandeur  makes  us  happy. 

2  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  of  March  16,  1672. 


INTRODUCTION 


21 


Apropos  of  the  death  of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  the 
Princess  Palatine,  wife  of  the  brother  of  Louis  XIV., 
wrote  :  “  I  hear  and  see  every  day  so  many  villanous 
things  that  it  disgusts  me  with  life.  You  have  good 
reason  to  say  that  the  good  Queen  is  now  happier 
than  we  are,  and  if  any  one  would  do  me,  as  to  her 
and  her  mother,  the  service  of  sending  me  in  twenty- 
four  hours  from  this  world  to  the  other,  I  would  cer¬ 
tainly  bear  them  no  ill  will.”^ 

Madame  de  iNIontespan  Avas  ill  at  ease  even  before 
that  hour  of  great  expiations  when  she  Avas  obliged, 
trembling  with  rage,  to  descend  the  marble  staircase 
of  Versailles,  never  again  to  mount  it.  As  in  the 
fairy  tales,  grand  palaces,  carriages  Avith  six  horses, 
diamonds,  and  splendid  attire  sprang  up  under  the 
feet  of  the  resplendent  favorite.  And  yet  at  the 
same  time,  Madame  de  Sévigné,  ahvays  a  skilled 
observer,  Avrote  concerning  the  triumphant  mistress 
Avho  Avas  the  object  of  all  favors  and  idolatries  :  “  The 
attachment  is  still  extreme,  enough  has  been  made 
of  it  to  annoy  the  curé  and  every  one  else,  but  per¬ 
haps  not  enough  for  her,  for  there  is  something  sad 
underneath  her  external  triumph.” ^ 

The  rival  Avho,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  sup¬ 
planted  ]\Iadame  de  Montespan  ;  the  prodigiously 
clever  Avoman  Avho,  according  to  a  very  just  expres¬ 
sion  of  M.  Capefigue,  Avas  for  so  many  years  the  sick- 


1  Letters  of  the  Princess  Palatine,  March  20,  1689. 

2  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  of  July  31,  1675. 


22 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


nurse  of  a  soul  worn  out  with  pride,  love,  and  glory; 
^Madame  de  Maintenon  wrote  in  the  midst  of  her 
own  splendor  to  Madame  de  La  Maisonfort:  “Why 
cannot  I  give  you  my  experience  !  Why  cannot  I 
make  jmu  see  the  ennui  which  devours  the  great,  and 
tlie  troubles  that  fill  their  days!  Do  you  not  see 
that  I  am  dying  of  sadness  in  a  fortune  which  could 
not  be  easily  imagined?  I  have  been  young  and 
pretty;  I  have  enjoyed  pleasures;  I  have  spent  years 
in  intellectual  intercourse  ;  I  have  arrived  at  favor, 
and  I  protest  to  you,  my  dear  child,  that  all  condi¬ 
tions  leave  a  frightful  void.” 

Again  it  is  Madame  de  Maintenon  who  said  to  her 
brother.  Count  d’Aubigné:  “I  can  hold  out  no 
longer;  I  would  like  to  be  dead.”  It  is  she  who, 
summing  up  all  the  phases  of  her  surprising  ca¬ 
reer,  wrote  to  Madame  de  Cay  lus  two  years  before 
her  death  :  “  One  atones  heavily  for  the  pleasures 
and  intoxication  of  youth.  I  find,  in  looking  back 
at  my  life,  that,  since  the  age  of  twenty-two,  which 
was  the  beginning  of  my  fortune,  I  have  not  had  a 
moment  free  from  sufferings,  and  that  they  have 
constantly  increased.”^ 

The  women  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  afford  no 
fewer  subjects  for  philosophical  reflections.  These 
pretended  mistresses,  who  in  reality  are  only  slaves, 
seem  to  present  themselves  one  after  another  like 


1  Letter  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  Madame  de  Caylus,  April 
19,  1771. 


INTRODUCTION 


23 


humble  penitents  who  come  to  make  their  apologies 
to  history  and,  like  the  primitive  Christians,  to 
reveal  publicly  the  miseries,  vexations,  and  remorses 
of  their  souls.  They  tell  us  what  their  doleful  suc¬ 
cesses  amounted  to.  Even  Avhile  their  triumphal 
chariot  made  its  way  through  a  crowd  of  flatterers, 
their  conscience  hissed  cruel  words  into  their  ears. 
Like  acti’esses  before  a  whimsical  and  variable  public, 
they  were  always  fearing  lest  the  applause  might 
change  into  uproar,  and  it  was  with  terror  underly¬ 
ing  their  apparent  coolness  that  they  continued  to 
play  their  sorry  part. 

Do  not  all  the  favorites  seem  to  unite  in  repeating 
to  us  with  Massillon:  “Is  it  not  true  that  the  way 
of  the  world  and  the  passions  is  yet  more  painful 
than  that  of  the  Gospel,  and  that  the  kingdom  of 
hell,  if  one  may  say  so,  suffers  still  more  violence 
than  that  of  heaven?”  If,  among  these  mistresses 
of  the  King,  there  were  a  single  one  who  had  enjoyed 
her  shameful  triumphs  in  peace,  who  had  called  her¬ 
self  happy  in  the  midst  of  her  luxury  and  splendor, 
one  might  have  concluded  that,  from  a  merely  human 
point  of  view,  it  is  possible  to  find  happiness  in 
vice.  But  no;  there  is  not  even  one.  The  Duch¬ 
ess  de  Chateauroux  and  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour 
are  not  happier  than  the  Duchess  de  La  Vallière  and 
the  Marquise  de  Montespan.  “  ‘O  my  God,’  cried 
Saint  Augustine,  ‘Thou  hast  ordained  it,  and  it  has 
never  failed  to  happen,  that  every  soul  that  is  in  dis¬ 
order  shall  be  its  own  torment.  If  we  taste  in  it 


TUE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


2-i 


certain  moments  of  felicity,  it  is  an  intoxication 
Avhich  does  not  last.  The  worm  of  conscience  is  not 
dead;  it  is  only  benumbed.  The  alienated  reason 
presently  returns,  and  with  it  return  bitter  troubles, 
gloomy  thoughts,  and  cruel  anxieties.’ 

Unfortunate  victim  of  a  royal  caprice,  the  young 
Duchess  de  Châteauroux,  who  lived  but  a  day,  “like 
the  flowers  of  the  field,”  condenses  into  her  brief  but 
tempestuous  career  all  the  miseries  and  deceptions 
of  vanity,  all  the  tortures  and  anguish  of  physical 
and  moral  pain.  Madame  de  Pompadour  at  the 
height  of  her  favor  is  steeped  in  melancholy.  Her 
lady’s  maid,  Madame  du  Hausset,  the  confidant  of 
her  perpetual  anxieties,  said  to  her  with  sincere 
commiseration:  “I  pity  you,  Madame,  while  every 
one  else  is  envying  you,”  and  the  Marquise,  satiated 
with  false  pleasures,  tormented  with  real  sufferings, 
remarked  bitterly  :  “  The  sorceress  said  I  would  have 
time  to  acknowledge  my  faults  before  I  die  ;  I  be¬ 
lieve  it,  for  I  shall  perish  of  nothing  but  chagrin.” 

When  she  dies  she  is  no  more  regretted  by  Louis 
XV.  than  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière  and  Madame 
de  Montespan  had  been  by  Louis  XIV.  From  one 
of  the  windows  of  Versailles,  during  a  frightful 
storm,  the  King  saw  the  carriage  which  was  taking 
the  favorite’s  coffin  to  Paris.  “  The  Marquise  will 
not  have  fine  weather  for  her  journey,”  said  he. 
Hardly  had  she  gone  down  into  the  grave  when  the 


^  Massillon,  Panégyrique  de  Sainte  Madeleine. 


INTRODUCTION 


25 


poor  dead  woman  was  forgotten  by  all.  The  Queen 
herself  remarked  it  when  she  wrote  to  President 
Henault:  “Here  there  is  no  more  question  of  her 
who  is  no  more  than  if  she  had  never  existed.  Such 
is  the  world  ;  it  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  loving  it.” 

The  destinies  of  the  heroines  of  Versailles  are 
not  interesting  solely  from  the  moral  point  of  view, 
as  subjects  of  philosophical  study,  and  sources  of 
Christian  reflections.  In  their  historical  relations 
also  they  have  what  may  be  called  a  symbolical  im¬ 
portance.  Certain  of  these  women  sum  up,  in  fact, 
a  whole  society,  personify  an  entire  epoch.  Madame 
de  Montespan,  the  superb,  luxuriant,  ample  beauty, 
good  to  show  to  all  the  ambassadors  ;  Madame  de 
Montespan,  the  grande  dame,  proud  of  her  birth,  her 
charms,  her  wit,  her  riches,  her  magnificence;  the 
woman  whose  terrible  railleries  made  her  as  much 
feared  as  she  was  admired,  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that 
the  courtiers  said  they  dared  not  pass  under  her  win¬ 
dows  for  fear  of  being  shot  at;  the  ostentatious, 
dazzling  mistress  whom  the  ancients  would  have 
represented  as  Cybele,  carrying  Versailles  upon  her 
forehead,  is  she  not  the  very  incarnation  of  haughty 
and  triumphant  France  at  the  culminating  point  of 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  France  which  resusci¬ 
tates  the  pomps  of  paganism  and  envelops  the  radi¬ 
ant  sovereign  whom  it  idolizes  in  clouds  of  incense? 
But  the  pride  of  the  favorite  will  be  punished  like 
that  of  her  royal  lover,  and  for  her  as  for  him  humil¬ 
iations  will  succeed  to  triumphs. 


26 


THE  COURT  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


The  rays  of  the  sun  have  no  longer  the  same 
splendor.  The  royal  star  which  is  declining  has 
lost  the  ardor  of  its  fires.  A  sincere  but  sometimes 
rather  narrow  devotion  comes  after  those  superabun¬ 
dant  sins  which,  to  use  Tertullian’s  expression,  wish 
to  possess  all  the  light  and  knowledge  of  heaven. 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  with  her  temperate  character 
and  style,  her  respect  for  order  and  the  proprieties, 
her  piety  which  has  just  a  hint  of  ostentation,  is  the 
living  symbol  of  the  new  court  in  which  religion 
replaces  voluptuousness.  But  at  the  side  of  this 
wisdom  of  repentant  age,  this  reaction  of  austerity 
against  pleasure,  there  is  still  the  contrast  of  youth. 
’Tis  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  who  represents  this 
protest  of  gaiety  against  sadness,  of  spring  against 
winter,  of  freedom  of  manners  against  the  restric¬ 
tions  of  etiquette. 

After  Louis  XIV.,  the  Regency.  After  compres¬ 
sion,  scandal.  The  new  epoch  is  troublous,  licen¬ 
tious,  dissolute.  Is  not  the  Duchess  of  Berry,  so 
fantastic,  so  capricious,  so  passionate,  its  very 
image?  As  to  the  favorites  of  Louis  XV.,  their  sad 
history  marks  out  for  us  the  stages  of  humiliation 
and  the  moral  decadence  of  absolute  power.  At 
first  the  King  takes  his  mistresses  from  among  the 
great  ladies,  then  from  the  middle  classes,  lastly 
from  the  women  of  the  people.  He  descends  from 
the  Duchess  de  Châteauroux  to  the  Marquise  de 
Pompadour,  from  the  Marquise  de  Pompadour  to 
Madame  Dubarry.  There  is  a  gradual  diminution 


INTRODUCTION 


27 


of  prestige  and  dignity.  Adultery  derogates.  Vice 
throws  off  all  manner  of  disguise.  And  yet,  even 
under  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  patriarchal  manners, 
honest  and  truly  Christian  sentiments,  characters 
which  do  honor  to  human  nature,  may  here  and  there 
be  found.  Queen  Marie  Leczinska  is  like  the  epit¬ 
ome  of  these  virtuous  types.  Her  domestic  hearth 
is  near  the  boudoir  of  the  favorites,  and  it  is  she 
who  preserves  for  the  court  the  last  traditions  of 
decency  and  decorum. 

Last  of  all  comes  Marie  Antoinette,  the  woman 
who,  in  the  most  striking  and  tragic  of  all  destinies, 
represents  not  solely  the  majesty  and  the  griefs  of 
royalty,  but  all  the  graces  and  all  the  agonies,  all 
the  joys  and  all  the  sufferings,  of  her  sex. 


'I 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


I 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  VERSAHiLES 
EFORE  recalling  the  rôle  played  by  the  women 


JL-J  of  Versailles,  something  must  be  said  of  the 
stage  on  which  their  destinies  were  fulfilled,  and  the 
miraculous  transformation  by  which  a  dismal  and 
gloomy  spot,  full  of  quicksands  and  marshes,  with 
neither  view,  water,  trees,  nor  land,  was  made  anew, 
^s  one  may  say,  in  the  image  of  the  great  King,  and 
became  a  marvel  admired  by  all  the  world.  Like 
those  great  rivers  which  at  their  source  are  hardly 
more  than  rivulets,  the  existence  of  the  palace  des¬ 
tined  one  day  to  be  so  splendid  commenced  in  most 
modest  and  simjde  proportions. 

It  was  in  1624  that  Louis  XIII.  had  a  hunting- 
meet  erected  at  Versailles  on  a  rising  ground  pre¬ 
viously  occupied  by  a  windmill.  In  1627,  at  an 
assembly  of  notables,  which  met  in  the  Tuileries, 
Bassompierre  reproached  the  King  with  not  com¬ 
pleting  the  crown  buildings,  saying  with  this  in¬ 
tent  :  “  It  is  not  His  Majesty’s  inclination  to  build  ; 


29 


30 


THE  ^YOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


the  finances  of  the  Chamber  are  not  exhausted  by  his 
sumptuous  edifices,  unless  one  would  like  to  re¬ 
proach  him  with  the  wretched  chateau  of  Versailles, 
in  the  construction  of  which  a  private  gentleman 
would  not  take  much  pride, 

In  1651,  eight  years  after  his  father’s  death,  Louis 
XIV.,  then  in  his  thirteenth  year,  came  for  the  first 
time  to  Versailles.  From  childhood  he  was  attached 
to  this  abode,  and  several  years  later  he  selected  it 
as  the  site  of  magnificent  festivities.  In  the  month 
of  May,  1664,  he  caused  the  performance  there  of  the 
Plaisirs  de  Vile  enchantée,  diversions  borrowed  from 
Ariosto’s  poem,  and  towards  the  execution  of  which 
Benserade  and  President  de  Périgny  contributed  the 
recitations  in  verse,  Molière  and  his  troop  the 
comedy,  Lulli  the  music  and  the  ballets,  and 
the  Italian  mechanician  Vigarani  the  decorations, 
illuminations,  and  fireworks. 

May  7,  the  first  day  of  the  fêtes,  there  was  tilting 
at  the  ring  in  presence  of  the  two  queens,  in  a 
grassy  circle  formed  at  the  entrance  of  the  great  alley 
now  called  the  green  carpet,  tapis  vert.  The  youth¬ 
ful  Louis  XIV.,  wearing  a  costume  sparkling  with 
all  the  crown  diamonds,  represented  the  Paladin 
Roo-er  in  the  island  of  Alcina.  After  the  tourney, 

O  ‘ 

in  which  he  was  the  victor.  Flora  and  Apollo  came 
to  congratulate  him  in  chariots  drawn  by  nymphs. 


1  See,  on  the  origins  of  the  palace,  the  curious  and  learned  work 
published  by  M.  Le  Roi,  under  the  title,  Louis  XIII.  et  Versailles. 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  VERSAILLES 


31 


sat)T’S,  and  dryads.  At  the  banquet,  Time,  the 
Hours,  and  the  Seasons  waited  on  the  guests,  who 
were  shaded  by  thickets  of  lilacs,  and  coppices  of 
myrtles  and  roses.  The  next  day.  May  8,  the 
Princesse  d'Elide,  a  piece  in  which  Molière  played 
the  parts  of  Lyciscas  and  Moron,  was  represented 
on  a  stage  erected  in  the  middle  of  the  same  great 
alley;  May  9,  a  ballet  in  the  palace  of  Alcides, 
which  simulated  its  conflagration;  May  10,  a  course 
de  têtes  in  the  castle  moats  ;  May  11,  a  representation 
of  Molière’s  Fâcheux;  May  12,  a  lottery  in  which 
the  prizes  were  pieces  of  furniture,  silverware,  and 
precious  stones,  and  in  the  evening.  Tartuffe  ;  Ma}'- 
13,  Mariage  forcé  ;  May  14,  departure  of  the  King 
and  court  for  Fontainebleau.  Mademoiselle  de  La 
Vallière  had  been  the  heroine  of  these  fêtes,  at 
which  Molière  extolled  the  favorite’s  amours  in 
presence  of  the  Queen  herself. 

Versailles  was  not  yet  the  royal  residence,  but 
Louis  XIV.  came  there  from  time  to  time  to  spend 
some  days,  and  occasionally  several  weeks,  espe¬ 
cially  when  he  wished  to  dazzle  eyes  and  fascinate 
imaginations  by  the  brilliancy  of  these  ostentatious 
festivities  which  resembled  apotheoses. 

September  14,  1665,  there  was  a  great  hunt  at 
Versailles,  when  the  Queen,  Madame  Henrietta  of 
England,  with  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier  and 
Mademoiselle  d’Alençon,  rode  in  amazonian  cos¬ 
tumes;  in  February,  1667,  a  tournament  which  over¬ 
passed  the  limits  of  magnificence. 


32 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


The  Gazette  takes  pains  to  describe  the  cortège 
of  court  ladies,  “all  admirably  equipped  and  on 
selected  horses,  led  by  Madame  in  the  most  superb 
vest,  and  seated  on  a  white  horse  with  trappings  of 
brocade  sown  Avith  pearls  and  precious  stones.” 
Following  tbe  feminine  squadron  appeared  the  Sun- 
King,  “  not  less  easily  recognized  by  the  lofty  mien 
peculiar  to  him  than  by  his  rich  Hungarian  habit, 
covered  with  gold  and  precious  stones,  his  helmet 
Avith  Avaving  plumes,  and  the  spirited  horse  which 
seemed  prouder  of  carrying  so  great  a  monarch  than 
of  its  magnificent  trappings  and  its  jeAvelled  saddle¬ 
cloth.”^  Then  followed  Monsieur,  the  King’s 
brother,  in  Turkish  costume;  then  the  Duke 
d’Enghien,  dressed  as  an  Indian;  then  the  other 
noblemen,  who  formed  ten  quadrilles. 

July  10,  1668,  there  were  new  rejoicings;  during 
the  day,  a  representation  of  the  Fêtes  de  V Amour  et 
de  Bacchus,  Avords  by  Quinet  and  music  by  Lulli, 
and  of  Georges  Dandin,  played  by  Molière  and  his 
troop  ;  in  the  evening  a  banquet  and  a  ball  ;  at  tAVO 
in  the  morning  illuminations.  The  circumference 
of  the  parterre  of  Latona,  the  grand  alley,  the  ter¬ 
race,  and  front  of  the  palace  were  decorated  with 
statues,  vases,  and  chandeliers  lighted  in  an  ingeni¬ 
ous  fashion,  which  made  them  appear  as  if  gloAving 
Avith  interior  flames.  Rockets  crossed  each  other  in 
the  air  above  the  chateau,  and  when  all  these  lights 


1  Gazette  of  1667. 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  VEESAILLES 


33 


were  extinguished,  says  Félibien,  in  terminating  his 
description  of  the  fête,  it  was  perceived  that  day, 
jealous  of  the  advantages  of  such  a  night,  had 
begun  to  dawn. 

September  17,  1672,  the  King's  troop  represented 
Molière’s  Femmes  savantes  at  Versailles,  who  were 
admirées  d'un  chacun,  says  the  Gazette.  Bourdaloue 
preached  the  Lenten  sermons  there  from  February 
8  to  April  19,  1674;  July  11,  the  Malade  imaginaire 
of  Molière,  who  had  died  the  previous  year,  was 
played  there;  in  August  came  a  series  of  grand  fêtes. 
Félibien  gives  a  striking  description  of  the  night  of 
August  31,  1674,  when,  under  a  dark  and  starless 
sky,  a  most  unheard-of  rain  of  lights  suddenly  be¬ 
came  visible.  All  the  parterres  glittered.  The 
grand  terrace  in  front  of  the  chateau  was  bordered 
with  a  double  row  of  lights  set  two  feet  apart.  The 
steps  and  railings  of  the  horseshoe,  all  the  walls, 
all  the  fountains,  all  the  reservoirs,  shone  with 
myriad  flames.  This  pyrotechnic  art,  this  blending 
of  fire  and  flowers  and  water  which  made  the  park 
resemble  the  garden  of  Armida,  had  come  from  Italy. 
The  borders  of  the  grand  canal  were  adorned  with 
statues  and  architectural  decorations  behind  which 
an  infinity  of  lights  had  been  placed  to  render  them 
transparent.  The  King,  the  Queen,  and  all  the 
court  were  on  richly  ornamented  gondolas.  Boats 
filled  with  mi;sicians  followed  them,  and  Echo 
repeated  the  sounds  of  an  enchanted  harmony. 

After  the  next  year,  great  works,  begun  by  Levan 


34 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAiLLEè 


and  Dorbay,  continued  by  Jules  Hardoin-Mausart, 
were  undertaken  at  Versailles,  where  Louis  XIV. 
wished  to  take  up  bis  permanent  residence.  What 
motives  determined  him  to  abandon  the  chateau  of 
Saint-Germain,  where  he  was  born,  where  he  had 
experienced  the  first  sensations  of  love,  that  admi¬ 
rably  situated  chateau  whence  one  beholds  so  pic¬ 
turesque  a  forest,  so  beautiful  a  stream,  so  vast  and 
magnificent  a  horizon?  Nothing  is  lacking  to  Saint- 
Germain,  neither  woods,  waters,  nor  prospect.  Its 
air  is  keen  and  salubrious.  It  seems  made  to  inspire 
great  thoughts,  and  from  the  heights  of  that  unpar¬ 
alleled  terrace  which  leans  against  the  forest,  one 
contemplates  one  of  the  most  varied  and  majestic 
panoramas  of  the  globe. 

Had  Louis  XIV.  expended  for  the  enlargement 
and  embellishment  of  the  old  chateau  (that  which  is 
still  existing)  and  the  new  château  (that  which  for¬ 
merly  faced  the  Seine  and  was  destroyed  under 
Louis  XVI.)  one  half  the  sums  expended  on  Ver¬ 
sailles,  what  an  incomparable  palace,  what  a  marvel, 
one  might  have  admired!  What  could  not  have 
been  made  of  the  new  château  of  Saint-Germain  (of 
which  nothing  now  remains  but  the  pavilion  of 
Henry  IV.),  that  elegant  château  whose  staircases 
appear  from  a  distance  like  arabesques  in  relief 
encrusted  upon  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  whose  five 
successive  terraces,  adorned  with  thickets,  fountains, 
and  parterres  of  flowers,  come  down  to  the  Seine  at 
Pecq?  How  could  he  prefer  to  such  a  residence 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  VERSAILLES 


35 


and  such  a  landscape,  an  obscure  manor  built  on 
ungrateful  soil,  surrounded  by  muddy  ponds,  with¬ 
out  views,  without  water,  on  an  estate  which,  in¬ 
stead  of  being  favored  by  nature,  it  was  necessary 
to  tyrannize  over  and  subdue  by  force  of  art  and 
riches  ? 

Was  it,  as  has  been  said,  the  distant  view  of  the 
steeple  of  Saint-Denis,  the  final  term  of  royal  gran¬ 
deur,  which  rendered  Saint-Germain  so  antipathetic 
to  Louis  XIV.  ?  Did  that  steeple  which  from  the 
horizon  seemed  to  be  saying  to  him  :  “  Memento  homo 
quia  pulvis  es  et  in  pulverem  reverteris.  Remember, 
man,  that  thou  art  dust,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt 
return,”  rebuke  the  pride  of  life  and  omnipotence 
which  overflowed  in  him?  Such  a  thought  seems  to 
us  pusillanimous.  It  would  be  unworthy  of  the 
great  King.  We  incline  rather  to  the  belief  that 
what  Louis  XIV.  found  displeasing  in  Saint-Ger¬ 
main  was  the  memory  of  the  time  when,  driven  from 
Paris  by  the  troubles  of  the  Fronde,  he  had  been 
taken  by  night  to  the  old  château.  Doubtless  he 
disliked  to  have  the  capital  which  had  insulted  his 
childhood  constantly  in  view  from  his  window. 

To  tear  himself  away  from  an  importunate  souve¬ 
nir;  to  efface  completely,  even  in  thought,  the  last 
vestiges  of  rebellious  acts  against  royal  authority; 
to  choose  a  residence  which  was  nothing,  in  order  to 
make  of  it  the  most  radiant  of  palaces  ;  to  take 
pleasure  in  this  transformation  as  being  the  tiiumph 
of  pride,  of  strength,  of  will;  to  create  all  for  him- 


36 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


self,  architecture,  gardens,  fountains,  horizon;  to 
constrain  nature  to  bend  beneath  the  yoke  and  avow 
itself  vanquished,  like  the  revolution, — such  was 
the  dream  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  this  dream  he  realized. 

From  1675  to  1682,  the  works  at  Versailles  were 
carried  on  with  astonishing  rapidity.  JThe  grand 
apartments  of  the  King  and  the  staircase  called  that 
of  the  Ambassadors  were  completed.  The  Gallery  of 
Mirrors  was  constructed  at  the  spot  where  a  terrace 
occupied  the  middle  of  the  façade,  on  the  side  of  the 
gardens.  The  south  wing,  called  the  Princes’  wing, 
was  added  to  the  chateau.  The  buildings  to  right 
and  left  of  the  first  court  in  front  of  the  chateau, 
called  the  Ministers’  wings,  were  finished.  The 
large  and  small  stables  were  built. 

Finally,  in  1681,  the  chapel  was  transferred  to 
the  present  site  of  the  Salon  of  Hercules  and  the  ves¬ 
tibule  below  it.  April  30,  1684,  Francis  de  Harlay, 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  blessed  the  chapel,  and  on  the 
6th  of  May  following,  Louis  XIV.  definitively  in¬ 
stalled  himself  at  Versailles.^ 

The  King  established  himself  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  palace.  The  salon  of  the  Œil-de-Bœuf  ^  was 
then  divided  into  two  rooms:  the  Bassani  chamber, 


1  If  one  wishes  to  get  an  idea  of  the  enlargements  of  Versailles, 
he  has  only  to  look  at  Van  der  Meulen’s  picture  in  the  King’s 
ante-chamber  (room  121  in  M.  Soulié’s  Notice  du  Musée).  This 
picture,  numbered  2145,  represents  Versailles  as  it  was  before  the 
works  undertaken  by  Louis  XIV. 

2  Room  123  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 


THE  CHATEAU  OF  VERSAILLES 


37 


SO  called  because  it  contained  several  paintings  by 
that  master,  where  the  princes  and  nobles  admitted  to 
the  sovereign’s  levee  waited;  and  the  former  cham¬ 
ber  of  Louis  XIII.,  where  Louis  XIV.  slept,  from 
1682  to  1701.  Adjoining  this  chamber  was  the 
grand  cabinet  where  the  ceremonies  of  the  levee  and 
the  couchée  took  place,  where  the  King  gave  audi¬ 
ence  to  the  nuncio  and  the  ambassadors,  and  received 
the  oaths  of  the  chief  officials  of  his  household.^ 
The  next  room  ^  was  at  this  period  divided  into  two. 
That  nearest  to  the  King’s  chamber  was  called  the 
Cabinet  of  the  Council,  and  in  it  Louis  XIV.,  with 
his  ministers,  took  the  greatest  decisions  of  his 
reign  ;  the  other  was  called  the  Cabinet  des  Termes 
or  des  Perruques. 

The  Queen  and  the  Dauphin  were  lodged,  the  one 
on  the  first  story,  the  other  on  the  ground-floor,  in 
the  south  part  of  the  old  château  of  Louis  XIII., 
that  which  has  a  view  of  the  orangery  and  the  Swiss 
lake.  The  Queen’s  apartments  ended  through  the 
Peace  Salon,  at  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors,  the  master¬ 
piece  of  the  new  Versailles.  At  the  other  extrem¬ 
ity  of  the  gallery  began,  with  the  War  Salon, 
the  rooms  designated  as  the  grand  apartments  of  the 
King,  state  and  reception  rooms  bearing  mytho¬ 
logical  names  :  halls  of  Apollo,  Mercury,  Diana,  and 
Venus. 

1  Room  124  of  the  Notice.  This  room  became  the  bedchamber 
of  Louis  XIV.,  and  he  died  there. 

2  Salle  du  Conseil,  No.  126  of  the  Notice. 


38 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


The  governor  of  the  palace  and  the  King’s  con¬ 
fessor  lodged  in  the  north  wing,  that  which  has  since 
been  rebuilt  by  the  architect  Gabriel.  Beyond  the 
site  of  the  present  chapel  were  placed  the  legitimated 
children,  the  princes  of  Condé  and  of  Conti,  the 
governor  of  the  Children  of  France,  and  a  goodly 
number  of  great  officials  and  chaplains.  The  Chil¬ 
dren  of  France  and  the  Orleans  family  resided  in  the 
great  south  hall,  opposite  the  gardens.  Finally,  the 
secretaries  of  State,  the  ministers  of  the  King’s 
household,  of  foreign  affairs,  war,  and  the  navy, 
were  installed  in  the  two  projecting  buildings  in 
front  of  which  are  now  placed  the  statues  of  cele¬ 
brated  men.  These  immense  constructions,  greatly 
subdivided  interiorly,  served  as  a  habitation  for  sev¬ 
eral  thousand  persons. 

Versailles  was  finished.  With  very  slight  modi¬ 
fications  it  offered  the  same  spectacle  which  it 
presents  to-day.  Seen  from  the  town  side,  the 
monument,  though  grandiose,  is  incongruous.  Its 
composite  architecture,  the  noticeable  contrast  be¬ 
tween  the  brick  and  the  stone,  between  the  primi¬ 
tive  chateau  and  its  immense  additions,  have  a  some¬ 
what  astounding  character.  Seen  from  the  park,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  majestic,  regular,  and  supremely 
harmonious.  This  façade,  say  rather  these  three 
façades,  more  than  six  hundred  yards  in  width  and 
having  altogether  three  hundred  and  seventy-five 
openings  into  the  garden;  this  projecting  building 
where  the  master  dwelt,  and  which  throws  out  in 


TUE  CHÂTEAU  OF  VERSAILLES 


39 


the  midst  of  a  long  right  line  wings  which  seem  to 
draw  back  as  if  to  keep  at  a  respectful  distance; 
these  thickets  fashioned  into  walls  of  verdure;  these 
reservoirs  framed  in  precious  marbles,  which  seem 
like  so  many  halls  in  open  air,  dependent  on  the 
palace  of  which  they  are  the  complement,  —  all  this 
profoundly  impresses  the  eyes  and  the  mind. 

And  yet  it  has  a  great  defect.  Hardly  has  one 
made  a  few  steps,  after  descending  the  first  staircase, 
when  the  château  sinks  down  and  disappears,  like 
the  sun  setting  on  the  coast.  Is  it  not  the  image 
of  that  absolute  monarchy  which,  after  shedding  so 
dazzling  a  glow,  was  suddenly  to  be  extinguished 
and  disappear  from  the  horizon?  Yet  in  spite  of 
this  fault  of  perspective,  the  edifice  has  a  sort  of 
radiant  serenity,  and  never,  perhaps,  was  the  gran¬ 
deur  of  a  man  better  identified  with  the  splendor  of 
a  palace.  There  is  an  intimate  relation  between  the 
King  and  his  chateau.  The  idol  is  worthy  of  the 
temple,  the  temple  of  the  idol.  There  is  always 
something  immaterial,  something  moral,  so  to  speak, 
in  monuments,  and  they  derive  their  poesy  from  the 
thought  connected  with  them.  For  a  cathedral,  it 
is  the  idea  of  God.  For  Versailles,  it  is  the  idea  of 
the  King.  Its  mythology,  as  has  been  justly  re¬ 
marked,  is  but  a  magnificent  allegory  of  which  Louis 
XIV.  is  the  reality.  It  is  he  always  and  every¬ 
where.  Fabulous  heroes  and  divinities  impart  their 
attributes  to  him  or  mingle  with  his  courtiers. 

In  honor  of  him,  Neptune  sheds  broadcast  the 


40 


THE  TVOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


waters  which  cross  in  air  in  sparkling  arches. 
Apollo,  his  favorite  symbol,  presides  over  this  en¬ 
chanted  world  as  the  god  of  light,  the  inspirer  of 
the  Muses  ;  the  sun  of  the  god  seems  to  pale  before 
that  of  the  great  King:  Nec  pluribus  impar.  Nature 
and  art  combine  to  celebrate  the  glory  of  the  sover¬ 
eign  by  a  perpetual  hosannah.  All  that  generations 
of  kings  have  amassed  of  pictures,  statues,  and 
precious  movables,  is  distributed  as  mere  furniture 
in  the  glittering  apartments  of  the  chateau.  One 
inhales  as  it  were  an  odor  of  incense.  The  intoxi¬ 
cating  perfumes  of  luxury  and  power  throw  one 
into  a  sort  of  ecstasy  that  makes  comprehensible  the 
exaltation  of  this  monarch,  enthusiastic  over  him¬ 
self,  who,  in  chanting  the  hymns  composed  in  his 
praise,  shed  tears  of  admiration. 


II 


LOUIS  XIV,  AND  ms  COURT  IN  1682 
lEN  Louis  XIV.  definitively  established  his 


V  V  residence  at  Versailles,  in  1682,  the  princi¬ 
pal  women  of  the  court  who  were  installed  there 
with  him  were  the  Queen,  aged  forty-four  years, 
like  himself,  born  in  1638,  married  in  1660,  long- 
afflicted  by  her  husband’s  infidelities,  and  now 
happy  in  beholding  his  return  to  more  virtuous 
sentiments;  the  Dauphiness,  a  Bavarian  princess, 
born  in  1660,  married  in  1680,  very  feeble  in  health, 
gentle  and  melancholy  in  disposition;  the  Duchess 
of  Orleans,  sometimes  designated  as  Madame  and 
sometimes  as  the  Princess  Palatine,  born  in  1652, 
married  in  1671  to  Monsieur,  the  King’s  brother,  a 
German  unable  to  accustom  herself  to  her  new  coun¬ 
try  ;  the  Princess  de  Conti,  legitimated  daughter  of 
Louis  XIV.  and  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière,  born 
in  1666,  married  in  1681  to  Prince  Armand  de 
Conti,  nephew  of  the  great  Condé,  a  young  woman 
of  exceptional  grace  and  beauty  ;  the  two  other  legit¬ 
imated  daughters  of  the  King,  Mademoiselle  de 
Nantes,  born  in  1673,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Blois 


41 


42 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEESAILLES 


in  1677,  who  were  to  marry,  some  years  later,  one 
the  Duke  of  Bourbon,  and  the  other  the  Duke  of 
Chartres  (the  future  regent);  Madame  de  Monte- 
span,  their  mother,  then  forty-one  years  old,  already 
at  the  end  of  her  left-handed  reign,  but  still  liv¬ 
ing  at  court  in  the  double  capacity  of  lady  of  the 
Queen’s  palace  and  the  mother  of  legitimated  chil¬ 
dren,  but  no  longer  bearing  any  sway  over  either  the 
heart  or  the  senses  of  Louis  XIV.  ;  and  finally, 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  already  very  influential 
under  a  modest  exterior,  still  beautiful  in  spite  of 
her  forty-seven  years,  on  equally  good  terms  with 
both  King  and  Queen,  and  rewarded,  since  1680, 
for  the  cares  she  had  bestowed,  as  governess,  on  the 
children  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Madame  de  Montespan, 
by  a  place  expressly  created  for  her  which  did  not 
bind  her  to  any  assiduous  service  while  it  gave  her 
an  honorable  position  at  court:  that  of  second  lady- 
in-waiting  to  the  Dauphiness. 

The  parts  played  by  the  women  of  Versailles  can¬ 
not  be  understood  without  studying  beforehand  the 
character  of  the  sovereign  who  was  the  animating 
spirit  of  this  palace  and  who  strongly  impressed  him¬ 
self  not  merely  on  his  own  realm  but  on  all  Europe. 
Never  has  any  monarch  exercised  such  a  prestige 
over  his  court;  all  that  shone  around  him  was  but 
the  pale  reflection  of  this  dazzling  luminary.  It 
was  from  the  Sun-King  that  each  woman  borrowed 
lustre,  and  he  must  be  spoken  of  before  their  figures 
are  traced. 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  Ills  COURT  IN  1682  43 


Whatever  one  may  say,  the  life  of  Louis  XIV. 
gains  on  close  examination.  Defects  and  qualities 
were  alike  great  in  this  accomplished  type  of  abso¬ 
lute  monarchy,  of  royalty  by  right  divine.  Louis 
XIV.  was  not  merely  majestic,  he  was  amiable. 
Those  who  surrounded  him,  the  members  of  his 
family,  his  ministers,  his  domestics,  loved  him. 

This  sovereign,  intimidating  to  such  a  point  that, 
according  to  Saint-Simon,  it  was  necessary  to  begin 
by  accustoming  one’s  self  to  see  him  if,  in  speaking 
with  him,  one  did  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of  com¬ 
ing  to  a  standstill,  was  nevertheless  full  of  benevo¬ 
lence  and  affability.  “Never  was  a  man  so  naturally 
polite,  nor  with  so  well-regulated  a  politeness,  nor 
one  who  better  discriminated  age,  rank,  and  merit. 
.  .  .  Never  did  it  happen  to  him  to  say  a  disobliging 
thing  to  any  one.”^  The  Princess  Palatine,  usually 
so  caustic  and  severe,  paid  homage  to  his  qualities 
both  as  man  and  sovereign.  “When  the  King 
chose,”  she  says  in  her  correspondence,  “he  was  the 
most  agreeable  and  amiable  of  men.  He  joked  in  a 
comical  way  and  pleasantly.  .  .  .  Although  he 
loved  flattery,  he  often  mocked  at  it  himself.  .  .  . 
He  knew  perfectly  well  how  to  content  people  even 
while  refusing  their  requests  ;  his  manners  were 
most  affable,  and  he  spoke  with  such  politeness  that 
it  touched  their  hearts.  .  .  .  When  he  acted  on  his 
own  initiative,  he  was  always  good  and  generous.” 


1  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon. 


44 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEESAILLES 


To  him  pleasure  was  merely  an  accessory. 
Throughout  his  entire  reign  he  never  ceased  to 
work  eight  hours  every  day.  He  wrote  in  his 
Memoirs,  intended  for  his  son’s  instruction,  that 
for  a  king  not  to  work  was  ingratitude  and  audacity 
towards  God,  and  injustice  and  tyranny  towards 
men.  “These  conditions  of  royalty,”  he  added, 
“  which  may  sometimes  appear  to  you  hard  and  vexa¬ 
tious  in  so  high  a  place,  you  would  find  sweet  and 
easy  were  it  a  question  of  arriving  thither.  .  .  . 
Nothing  will  he  more  fatiguing  to  you  than  great 
idleness  should  you  have  the  misfortune  of  falling 
into'  it.  Disgusted  with  affairs  in  the  first  place, 
next  with  pleasures,  you  will  at  last  be  disgusted 
with  idleness  itself.”  Work,  that  is  to  say  duty, 
was  a  source  of  incessant  satisfaction  for  the  great 
King.  “ To  have  one’s  eyes  open  over  all  the  earth,” 
he  wrote  in  his  Memoirs,  “to  learn  incessantly  the 
news  of  all  the  provinces  and  all  the  nations,  the 
secrets  of  all  courts,  the  dispositions  and  the  weak 
points  of  all  princes  and  all  foreign  ministers,  to  be 
informed  about  an  infinity  of  things  of  which  we 
are  supposed  to  be  ignorant,  to  see  all  around  us 
what  people  are  endeavoring  to  their  utmost  to  con¬ 
ceal,  to  discover  the  most  remote  views  of  our  own 
courtiers,  —  I  know  not  what  other  pleasure  would 
not  be  abandoned  for  this  one,  even  if  solely  moved 
by  curiosity.” 

Louis  XIV.  was  a  supreme  artist  who  played  his 
part  of  king  with  facility  and  conviction.  He  was 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  ms  COURT  IN  1682  45 


also  a  poet  in  action  whose  existence,  formed  to  strike 
the  imagination  of  his  subjects,  unrolled  itself  in  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  grand  and  marvellous  deeds; 
a  sovereign  enamoured  of  glory  and  the  ideal,  “who 
took  a  delighted  admiration  in  great  battles,  in  acts 
of  heroism  and  courage,  in  warlike  preparations,  in 
the  skilfully  combined  operations  of  a  siege,  in  the 
terrible  affrays  of  battle,  and,  in  the  depths  of  forests, 
in  the  noisy  tumult  of  great  hunting  exploits.”^  • 
On  his  deathbed,  Louis  XIV.  accused  himself  of 
having  been  too  fond  of  war.  He  might  also  have 
accused  himself  of  having  been  too  fond  of  women. 
Yet  he  had  certain  illusions  respecting  them,  and 
sincerely  believed  that  they  had  never  ruled  him. 
He  boasts  as  much  —  wrongly  as  we  believe  —  in  the 
Memoirs  he  addressed  to  the  Dauphin.  “In  aban¬ 
doning  our  hearts,”  he  wrote,  “we  must  remain 
absolute  masters  of  our  minds  ;  we  must  make  a  dis¬ 
tinction  between  the  tenderness  of  a  lover  and  the 
resolutions  of  a  sovereign,  so  that  the  beauty  who 
makes  our  pleasures  shall  not  be  free  to  speak  to  us 
concerning  our  affairs.  .  .  .  You  know  what  I  have 
said  to  you  many  times  about  the  influence  of  favor¬ 
ites;  that  of  a  mistress  is  far  more  dangerous.  .  .  . 
As  the  prince  ought  always  to  be  a  perfect  model  of 
virtue,  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  avoid  the  trail- 
ties  common  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  the  more  so 
because  he  is  sure  that  they  cannot  remain  hidden.” 


1  Walckenaër,  Mémoires  sur  Madame  de  Sévigné,  t.  V. 


46 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Louis  XIV.  did  not  always  svicceed  in  putting 
these  beautiful  and  prudent  maxims  into  practice; 
hut,  culpable  as  they  were,  his  amours  at  all  times 
preserved  a  certain  poetic  quality.  In  the  midst  of 
his  splendors,  the  great  King  thought  the  joy  of  lov¬ 
ing  and  of  being  loved  was  the  supreme  happiness. 
Far  from  wishing  to  say:  Fern,  vidi^  vici,  he  courted 
his  mistresses  patiently.  He  comprehended  their 
scruples,  he  esteemed  their  resistance,  he  honored 
their  repentance.  Impassioned  for  love  more  than 
for  pleasure,  he  remained  sentimental  in  his  most 
evanescent  attachments.  As  has  been  remarked  by 
the  Princess  Palatine,  if  women  wished  to  please 
him,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  them  if  not  to 
love  him,  at  least  to  pretend  to  do  so.  The  first 
really  profound  impression  which  was  made  on  him 
by  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  caused  by  an  evidence 
of  her  sensibility.  Seeing  that  her  grief  at  the  death 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Montespan’s  oldest  child  had 
made  her  lose  flesh:  “She  knows  how  to  love,” 
said  he.  “It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  be  loved  by 
her.” 

This  sovereign,  so  often  accused  of  cruel  egotism, 
often  showed  exquisite  delicacy  of  heart.  Madame 
de  La  Fayette,  so  good  a  judge  in  matters  of  senti¬ 
ment,  says  as  much  in  her  Memoirs  :  “  The  King, 
who  is  good-hearted,  has  an  extraordinary  tender¬ 
ness,  especially  for  women.”  He  desired  to  be  loved 
by  them  as  much  as  to  possess  them.  “For  him,  no 
commerce  with  them  could  be  lasting  which  did  not 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  HIS  COURT  IN  1682  47 


include  that  of  mind  and  soul.”^  With  his  in¬ 
contestable  beauty  of  face  and  figure,  his  majestic 
sweetness,  his  penetrating,  sympathetic  voice,  his 
chivalrous  courtesy,  his  exquisite  politeness  toward 
women  of  every  rank,  and  the  supreme  elegance  of 
manners  and  language  which  distinguished  him 
among  all  others  as  the  “King-bee,”  he  would  have 
had,  even  as  a  private  person,  the  ability  to  “create 
the  greatest  disorders  of  love.”^ 

He  often  discovered  that  all  the  fascinations  of 
riches,  the  pomp  of  thrones,  the  intoxications  of 
pride  and  power  were  not  worth  a  kiss,  a  smile,  and 
amidst  the  magnificence  of  his  Asiatic  court  he  fre¬ 
quently  told  himself,  like  a  poet  of  our  own  day  :  — 

“Être  admiré  n’est  rien,  l’affaire  est  d’être  aimé.” * 

Is  not  the  perfume  of  the  violet  more  charming 
than  that  of  incense,  and  was  not  a  tender  word  from 
La  Vallière  sweeter  to  his  ear  and  heart  than  the 
overstrained  compliments  of  his  most  skilful  cour¬ 
tiers?  But  the  man  whom  one  would  love  now 
would  no  longer  be  Louis,  it  would  be  the  King. 
By  an  admirable  law  of  Providence,  nothing  that  is 
really  beautiful  can  be  purchased:  neither  youth, 
health,  nor  gaiety,  neither  consciousness,  beauty, 
talent  nor  glory,  above  all  not  love.  Voluptuous 
pleasure  may  be  bought,  and  always  costs  too  much, 

1  Walckenaër,  Mémoires  sur  3Iadame  de  Sévigné,  t.  V. 

2  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon. 

®  To  be  admired  is  nothing,  the  thing  is  to  be  loved. 


48 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


for  voluptuousness  is  a  very  petty  thing.  As  to 
love,  all  the  knowledge  and  all  the  treasures  of  love 
cannot  acquire  it.  Louis  XIV.  is  absolute  master. 
Doubtless,  if  the  fancy  seized  him,  almost  any 
woman  would  still  throw  herself  at  his  head.  But 
could  he  find  another  La  Vallière  among  all  those 
beauties  ? 

1682  is  the  beginning  of  his  repentance,  the  year 
when  the  King  returns  to  virtue,  when  he  meditates 
seriously  on  the  advantages  of  order  and  duty  even 
from  the  merely  human  point  of  view.  His  last 
sensual  passion  had  been  for  Mademoiselle  de  Fon- 
tanges,  who  died  the  previous  year.  With  her  was 
extinguished  the  great  flame  of  the  King’s  amours. 
His  affection  for  Madame  de  Maintenon  will  be  far 
more  intellectual  than  voluptuous.  In  that  com¬ 
merce  there  will  be  more  room  for  the  mind  than  for 
the  body,  and  the  lover  will  disappear  almost  entirely 
to  give  place  to  the  devotee.  The  tragic  destiny  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges,  the  rapid  honors,  atoned 
for  so  quickly  and  so  painfully,  the  tabouret  as 
duchess,  the  carriages  with  six  horses,  the  luxury, 
jewels,  splendors,  and  then  the  thunderbolt,  the 
terrible  death  after  an  unfortunate  lying-in,  the  sus¬ 
picion  of  poison,  the  remark  of  the  Abbess  de  Chelles, 
the  favorite’s  sister,  on  receiving  her  icy  heart  :  “  This 
heart  belonged  to  God  at  first  ;  the  world  had  gained 
it.  God  has  at  last  resumed  what  was  His,  but  it 
was  not  yielded  to  Him  without  pain  all  this  had 
profoundly  impressed  the  mind  of  Louis  XIV. 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  niS  COURT  IN  1682  49 


Since  then  the  words  of  great  preaehers  had  sounded 
more  forcibly  than  usual  in  his  ears,  and  the  voice 
of  his  conscience  spoke  more  loudly  than  that  of  his 
courtiers. 

From  the  depths  of  the  cloister  where  she  had  been 
enclosed  eight  years  already,  the  retreat  and  the 
silence  of  another  woman  inspired  him  with  pious 
retlections  and  salutary  thoughts.  The  Duchess  de 
La  Vallière,  now  become  Sister  Louise  of  Mercy, 
had  said  that  if  the  King  came  to  her  convent,  she 
would  hide  herself  so  effeetually  that  he  could  not 
find  her.^  But  Louis  XIV.,  penetrated  with  admi¬ 
ration  for  the  repentance  of  the  sinner  whose  fault 
he  had  occasioned,  no  longer  desired  to  trouble  the 
calm  of  the  asylum  where  she  had  sought  refuge  from 
both  herself  and  him.  When  she  lost  her  brother  in 
1G76,  he  had  sent  her  word  that  if  he  were  a  good 
enough  man  to  see  a  Carmelite  so  pious  as  she,  he 
would  go  in  person  to  tell  her  how  he  regretted  the 
loss  she  had  sustained.  Louis  XIV.  has  often  been 
accused  of  having  completely  forgotten  the  woman 
he  had  so  mueh  loved.  It  is  an  unjust  reproach,  if 
one  may  credit  M.  Walckenaër.^ 

According  to  this  judicious  critic.  La  Vallière  was 
never  more  present  to  the  King’s  thoughts  than  after 
she  had  abandoned  his  court.  Never  had  she  ap¬ 
peared  so  adorable  to  him  as  when  the  sight  of  her 


1  Memoirs  of  the  Princess  Palatine. 

2  Walckenaër,  Mémoires  sur  Madame  de  Sévigné,  t.  V. 


50 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


had  been  forbidden  him.  He  joyfully  granted  all 
she  asked,  not  for  herself,  but  for  her  relatives,  and 
was  glad  to  learn  that  the  Queen  and  all  the  court 
gave  the  pious  Carmelite  marks  of  their  interest  and 
veneration.  It  was  thus  that  at  the  foot  of  the 
altar,  Sister  Louise  of  Mercy  asked  from  God  the 
conversion  of  Louis  XIV.  and  obtained  it. 

Tliis  sovereign,  however  calumniated  by  certain 
historians  of  our  day,  was  never  a  vulgar  debauchee. 
When  it  is  remembered  that  at  the  age  of  forty-four, 
being  still  in  the  full  vigor  of  moral  and  physical 
strength,  he  put  an  end  to  all  scandals  and  thence¬ 
forth  lived  an  irreproachable  private  life  until  his 
death,  in  spite  of  the  seductions  surrounding  him 
on  every  side,  it  is  impossible  not  to  render  homage 
to  such  a  triumph  of  religious  sentiment. 

There  was  nothing  in  that  consciousness  of  royal 
dignity  with  which  he  has  been  wrongfully  re¬ 
proached,  as  if  it  were  a  culpable  pride,  which  was 
incompatible  with  reverence  for  the  Divinity.  Be¬ 
fore  all  things,  Louis  XIV.  was  a  very  spiritual 
man.  Believing  in  the  altar  and  the  throne,  he  had 
faith  in  God  first  and  then  in  himself,  the  anointed 
of  the  Lord.  Heaven  was  his  ideal,  and  under 
heaven,  royalty;  the  royalty,  which  represented  the 
right  of  force  and  the  force  of  right,  the  majestic, 
tutelary  royalty,  which,  like  the  sun,  shed  the  splen¬ 
dor  and  beneficence  of  its  beams  on  poor  and  rich,  on 
small  and  great.  Louis  XIV.  had  a  very  just  opin¬ 
ion  of  himself.  So  great  as  he  esteemed  himself  in 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  HIS  COURT  IN  1682  51 


the  sight  of  men,  so  little  did  he  think  himself  in 
the  sight  of  God.  Better  than  any  other  could  he 
apply  to  himself  Corneille’s  line:  — 

“  Pour  être  plus  qu’un  roi,  te  crois-tu  quelque  chose  ?  ”  ^ 

The  sovereign  who  would  have  defied  all  other 
monarchs  taken  together,  kneeled  humbly  before  an 
obscure  priest.  The  worthy  inheritor  of  Charle¬ 
magne  asked  pardon  for  his  sins  from  the  son  of  a 
peasant.  It  is  this  mixture  of  Christian  humility 
with  royal  pride  which  gives  an  aspect  so  imposing 
to  the  character  of  Louis  XIV.  The  religious  sen¬ 
timents  taught  him  from  his  cradle  by  his  mother 
constantly  recurred  to  his  mind,  even  in  his  most 
lamentable  errors.  When  he  was  a  child  this  impas¬ 
sioned  mother,  kneeling  before  him,  cried  with  trans¬ 
port:  “I  would  respect  him  as  much  as  I  love  him.” 
But  this  exclamation  was  not  an  idle  flattery.  It 
might  be  called  an  act  of  faith  in  the  principle  of 
royalty. 

The  first  impressions  of  the  child  were  but 
strengthened  in  the  man.  There  was  always  in  him 
somewhat  of  both  the  sovereign  and  the  pontiff. 
He  reigned  with  the  same  solemn  gravity  with 
which  sincerely  convinced  priests  officiate.  Soul  of 
the  State,  source  of  all  grace,  all  justice,  and  all 
glory,  he  considered  himself  the  lieutenant  of  God 


1  Dost  think  thou  art  somewhat  because  thou  art  more  than  a 
king? 


52 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


upon  earth,  and  it  was  in  that  capacity  that  he  had 
a  veneration  for  himself  which  the  great  preachers 
incessantly  confirmed.  Bossuet’s  ideas  of  govern¬ 
ment  are  simply  a  commentary  on  that  political  faith, 
intimately  associated  with  religious  faith,  of  which 
it  is  the  corollary.  To  the  great  bishop  as  to  the 
great  king,  royalty  is  not  a  trade,  but  a  priesthood, 
and  a  sovereign  who  should  not  have  the  sentiment 
of  monarchical  dignity  would  be  as  blameworthy  as 
a  priest  who  should  not  respect  the  cult  of  which 
he  is  the  minister.  It  was  to  this  theory,  the  very 
essence  of  royal  power,  that  Louis  XIV.  owed  that 
authoritative  physical  and  moral  attitude  which 
Saint-Simon  styles  “the  constant  dignity  and  con¬ 
tinual  law  of  his  exterior.” 

The  ascendency  which  he  thought  it  not  simply 
his  right  but  his  duty  to  exercise  over  all  his  sub¬ 
jects,  be  they  what  they  might,  made  itself  especially 
felt  by  those  who  were  near  him.  The  government 
of  his  court,  his  family,  his  gynæceum,  was  subject 
to  the  same  rules  and  doctrines  as  the  affairs  of  State. 
In  him  the  paternal  and  the  royal  authority  were 
combined.  Nothing  escaped  his  control.  His 
wishes  were  irrevocable  decrees,  and  his  son,  the 
Dauphin,  behaved  toward  him  like  the  most  submis¬ 
sive  and  respectful  of  all  his  courtiers.  Revolution¬ 
ary  times  may  criticise  such  a  system,  but  it  is 
admirable  none  the  less.  The  principle  of  author¬ 
ity,  imposed  on  Nature  herself  as  the  general  law  of 
creation,  is  the  basis  of  all  organized  society. 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  Ills  VO  U  HT  IN  1682  53 


It  is  the  glory  of  Louis  XIV.  to  have  been  the 
convinced  representative,  the  living  s3'mbol  of  this 
principle;  to  have  comprehended  that  where  there 
is  no  religious  there  is  no  political  discipline,  and 
that  where  there  is  no  political  there  is  no  militaiy 
discipline.  The  same  theories  are  applicable  to 
churches,  palaces,  and  camps.  Indispensable  au¬ 
thority  is  still  more  precious  than  necessary  liberties, 
and  in  matters  of  government  as  in  those  of  art, 
beauty  is  impossible  without  unity,  f  The  entire  pro¬ 
gramme  of  Louis  XIV.  was  a  coimant  as2)iration 
toward  the  unity  which  is  harmonyj  That  is  why 
Napoleon,  in  excusing  the  defects  of  a  sovereign 
whose  glory  he  was  so  well  adapted  to  appreciate, 
said  with  admiration  :  “  Are  there  not  spots  on  the 
sun?  Louis  XIV.  was  a  great  king.  It  was  he 
who  raised  France  to  the  first  rank  among  nations. 
What  king  of  France  since  Charlemagne  can  be 
Bompared  to  Louis  XIV.  under  all  his  aspects  ?  ” 


Ill 


QUEEN  MAEIE  THÉRÈSE 


O  find  among  types  disturbed  by  pride,  ambi- 


JL  tion,  and  tbe  love  of  pleasure,  a  face  of  supreme 
sweetness,  a  truly  Christian  character,  a  pure,  can¬ 
did,  angelic  soul,  is  a  veritable  satisfaction,  I  might 
almost  say  a  repose  to  the  observer.  One  looks  with 
composure  at  simplicity  beneath  the  diadem  ;  humil¬ 
ity  on  the  throne;  the  qualities  and  virtues  of  a 
nun  in  the  heart  of  a  queen;  a  short  but  well- 
filled  life;  a  rôle  seemingly  eclipsed,  but  in  reality 
more  serious  and  above  all  more  noble  and  respect¬ 
able  than  that  of  many  celebrated  women  ;  at  great 
moral  sufferings  Christianly  and  courageously  sup¬ 
ported;  in  a  word,  at  an  irreproachable  type  of  piety 
and  goodness,  of  conjugal  tenderness  and  maternal 
love.  Such  was  Marie  Thérèse  of  Austria,  the  pious 
companion  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  French  monarchy  has  had  the  privilege  of 
being  sanctified  by  a  certain  number  of  queens  whose 
virtues  might  be  called  a  compensation  for  court 
scandals,  and  who  have  contributed  more  than  any 
others  to  preserve  the  moral  authority  of  the  throne. 


54 


QUEEN  MARIE  THÉRÈSE 


55 


Just  as  under  the  reigns  of  the  later  Valois  Claude 
of  France,  Elisabeth  of  Austria,  and  Louise  de  Vaudé- 
mont  redeemed  the  vices  of  Francis  I.,  Charles  IX., 
and  Henry  III.  by  their  purity  of  heart,  so  Marie 
Thérèse  may  he  said  to  have  recompensed  morality 
for  the  injuries  inflicted  on  it  by  Louis  XIV. 
History  should  not  forget  this  woman  in  whose  veins 
flowed  the  blood  of  Charles  V.  and  that  of  Henry 
IV.  ;  this  sovereign  who  wore  her  royal  mantle 
with  dignity  even  while  comparing  it  to  a  winding- 
sheet;  this  model  Avife  who  loved  her  husband  with 
all  the  strength  of  her  soul  and  never  approached  him 
but  with  a  mingled  respect,  fear,  and  tenderness; 
this  devoted  mother  who  made  it  her  care  to  move 
the  heart  of  the  young  Prince  whose  mind  was  com¬ 
mitted  to  the  charge  of  Bossuet;  this  holy  woman 
who  has  proved  that  a  palace  may  become  a  sanctu¬ 
ary,  and  that  a  Christian  heart  may  beat  under  vel¬ 
vet  and  ermine  as  well  as  under  a  robe  of  frieze. 

Marie  Thérèse,  born  like  Louis  XIV.  in  1638,  was 
but  a  few  days  younger  than  he.  Her  father  was 
Philip  IV.,  King  of  Spain,  and  her  mother  Isabella 
of  France,  daughter  of  Henry  IV.  and  Maria  de’ 
Medici.  Hence  she  was  cousin-german  to  Louis 
XIV.  The  Christian  sentiments  of  this  princess 
wlio  reckoned  Saint  Elisabeth  of  Hungary  and  Saint 
Elisabeth  of  Portugal  among  her  ancestors,  did  not 
prevent  her  from  being  conscious  of  the  glory  of  her 
family.  A  nun  who  was  aiding  her  to  make  her 
examination  of  conscience  for  a  general  confession. 


56 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


asked  her  one  day,  if  before  her  marriage,  she  had 
never  sought  to  please  or  desired  to  be  loved. 
“No,”  replied  the  Queen.  “Could  I  have  loved 
any  one  in  Spain?  There  were  no  kings  at  my 
father’s  court.” 

Marie  Thérèse  was  not  remarkable  from  the  phys¬ 
ical  point  of  view.  Her  Germanic  rather  than 
Spanish  countenanee,  her  dull  white  complexion, 
her  very  blond  hair,  her  large  pale  blue  eyes,  her 
red  and  hanging  lips,  her  heavy  features,  her  small 
figure,  rendered  her  neither  beautiful  nor  ugly. 
Still,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  she  had  not  lacked 
overstrained  compliments  and  enthusiastic  descrip¬ 
tions.  All  Parnassus  had  set  to  work.  A  multi¬ 
tude  of  French  and  Latin  verses,  in  the  following 
strain,  had  been  composed  :  — 

“  Thérèse  seule  a  pu  vaincre  par  ses  regards 
Ce  superbe  vainqueur,  qui  triomphe  de  Mars.”  ^ 

“  Victorem  Martis  prœda,  spoliî  isque  superhum 
Vincere  quœ  posset,  sola  Theresa  fuitJ” 

But  this  Queen  whose  hand  had  been  desired  by  so 
many  princes,  and  whose  marriage  had  so  much 
political  importance,  made  a  silence  all  round  her  as 
soon  as  she  was  installed  in  the  Louvre  and  at 
Saint-Germain.  The  timidity  of  her  character,  her 
instinctive  horror  of  the  slanders  and  calumnies  so 


1  Theresa  only  has  been  able  to  vanquish  by  her  glances 
This  superb  victor  who  triumphs  over  Mars. 


QUEEN  MABIE  THÉRÈSE 


57 


frequent  in  courts,  her  remoteness  from  all  intrigues, 
her  passionate  admiration  for  the  King  whom  she 
believed  far  too  superior  to  herself  for  her  to  dare 
offer  him  any  political  counsel,  all  aided  to  keep 
her  ignorant  of  government  secrets.  Nevertheless, 
when  Louis  XIV.  made  foreign  wars,  he  decorated 
her  with  the  title  of  regent.  But  in  spite  of  these 
more  nominal  than  real  functions,  Marie  Thérèse 
busied  herself  very  little  with  the  affairs  of  State, 
and  the  ministers  continued  in  fact,  if  not  in  law,  to 
hold  only  from  the  sovereign.  On  formal  occasions 
Louis  XIV.  addressed  his  bulletins  of  victory  to  the 
Queen.  It  was  she  who  received  official  notification 
of  the  crossing  of  the  Rhine.  When  her  husband 
was  making  a  campaign,  people  said  :  “  The  King  is 
fighting,  and  the  Queen  praying.” 

Marie  Thérèse  had  not  a  superior  intelligence,  but 
she  united  a  great  sentiment  of  dignity  to  much  tact 
and  good  sense.  To  Bossuet,  who  was  charged 
with  the  education  of  the  Dauphin,  she  said  :  “  Do 
not  permit  anything,  sir,  in  the  conduct  of  my  son 
which  may  wound  the  sanctity  of  the  religion  he 
professes  and  the  majesty  of  the  throne  to  which  he 
is  destined.”  Her  convictions  as  to  the  origin  and 
character  of  the  royal  power  were  absolutely  like 
those  of  her  husband.  She  testified  a  boundless 
admiration  for  him,  and  not  one  of  the  women  who 
were  enamoured  of  him  loved  him  more  strongly  and 
more  constantly.  At  the  beginning  of  her  marriage, 
Louis  XIV.  had  treated  her  not  only  with  great 


58 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


respect,  but  with  real  tenderness.  When  she  brought 
the  Dauphin  into  the  world,  the  King  was  shedding 
tears  of  anguish  so  long  as  the  pains  of  her  delivery- 
lasted,  and  at  five  o’clock  in  the  morning  he  went  to 
confession  and  communion.^  In  eleven  years  Marie 
Thérèse  had  three  sons  and  three  daughters  and  lost 
them  all  very  young  with  the  exception  of  the 
Dauphin.  She  endured  these  cruel  deaths  with 
admirable  resignation  but  w'ith  a  lacerated  heart. 

Her  husband’s  infidelities,  concealed  at  first,  pub¬ 
lic  later  on,  caused  her  nothing  less  than  torture. 
Assuredly  it  was  a  sad  spectacle  to  see  the  King’s 
favorites  forming  part  of  the  Queen’s  household  and 
apparently  waiting  on  a  woman  of  whom,  under  the 
externals  of  respect,  they  were  in  reality  the  rivals 
and  persecutors.  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière, 
maid  of  honor  to  Marie  Thérèse,  made  her  suffer  all 
the  torments  of  jealousy  and  outraged  conjugal  love. 
More  than  once  the  unhappy  Queen  was  heard  to 
exclaim  with  bitterness:  “That  girl  will  be  the 
death  of  me.”  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière  rode  in 
the  royal  carriage  with  Madame  de  Montespan  and 
appeared  thus  at  the  frontiers,  the  camps,  and  the 
armies. 

“The  people,”  says  Saint-Simon,  “ hastened  from 
all  parts  to  see  the  three  queens,  and  asked  each 
other  in  all  simplicity  if  they  had  seen  them.” 
Thirty-six  years  of  the  most  austere  penitence  in 


1  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  MotteviUe, 


QUEEN  3rAEIE  THÉRÈSE 


59 


the  strictest  conventual  enclosure  and  the  most  se¬ 
vere  mortifications  did  not  seem  to  the  Duchess  de 
La  Vallière,  now  become  Sister  Louise  of  Mercy,  a 
sufficient  expiation  for  the  griefs  she  had  occasioned 
the  saintly  Queen.  Between  the  repentant  favorite 
and  the  forgiving  wife  there  were  established,  in  the 
holy  silence  of  the  cloister,  friendly  relations  which 
form  one  of  the  most  touching  souvenirs  of  history. 
A  member  of  the  Paris  clergy,  M.  l’Abbé  Duclos, 
has  devoted  a  long  and  learned  work  to  the  compara¬ 
tive  study  of  Marie  Thérèse  and  Mademoiselle  de 
La  Vallière.  It  is  in  reality  an  edifying  subject, 
and  I  do  not  wonder  that  it  thrust  itself  upon  the 
pious  meditations  of  a  priest.  Nowhere  was  Marie 
Thérèse  more  loved  and  venerated  than  in  that 
Carmelite  convent  in  the  rue  Saint-Jacques  where 
she  came  to  visit  the  woman  who  had  exchanged  the 
rôle  of  a  king’s  mistress  for  that  of  a  servant  of 
God. 

Some  time  before  her  own  scandalous  favor  began, 
Madame  de  Montespan  had  said  :  “  God  preserve  me 
from  being  the  King’s  mistress  !  But  if  I  were  so, 
I  should  be  very  much  ashamed  before  the  Queen.” 
The  woman  who  used  this  language  was  precisely 
she  who  was  to  play  her  part  as  favorite  with  the 
utmost  pomp  and  pride.  And  yet,  at  the  bottom  of 
her  soul  the  triumphant  beauty,  the  superb  sultana, 
so  infatuated  with  her  charms  and  her  wit,  her 
luxury  and  splendor,  her  elevation  and  her  power, 
felt  herself  belittled  in  presence  of  this  good  and 


60 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


pious  Queen,  the  mere  sight  of  whom  was  a  mute 
reproach.  For  awhile  she  succeeded  in  deceiving 
her  and  in  passing  for  an  exemplary  woman.  But 
the  Queen,  who,  though  she  did  not  readily  believe 
in  evil,  was  not  without  perspicacity,  was  quickly 
disabused.  One  day  she  said  :  “  I  know  more  about 
it  than  they  think,  and  I  am  nobody’s  dupe,  what¬ 
ever  they  may  fancy.” 

Louis  XIV.,  who  felt  himself  guilty  toward  this 
Queen  so  worthy  of  affection  and  respect,  tried  to 
make  amends  by  the  deference  he  displayed  for  her. 
He  treated  her  with  gentleness  and  courtesy  both 
in  public  and  private,  and  through  attachment  and 
conscience  as  an  honest  man  as  well  as  through 
interest  in  his  dynasty,  he  never  entirely  neglected 
her.  When  he  came  back  to  her,  says  the  Princess 
Palatine,  “she  became  so  gay  that  people  remarked  it 
every  time.  .  .  .  Then  she  laughed,  and  twinkled, 
and  rubbed  her  little  hands.  .  .  .  She  had  such  an 
affection  for  the  King  that  she  tried  to  read  in  his 
eyes  whatever  would  give  him  pleasure;  providing 
he  looked  kindly  at  her  she  was  happy  all  day.  ”  ^ 
She  neither  acted,  thought,  nor  lived  except  in  him. 
The  fear  of  displeasing  him  turned  her  cold  with 
fright.  “That  poor  princess,”  says  Madame  de 
Caylus  in  her  Souvenirs,  “had  such  a  dread  of  the 
King  and  such  great  natural  timidity  that  she  neither 
dared  speak  to  him  nor  run  the  risk  of  a  tête-à-tête 


1  Letters  of  the  Princess  Palatine. 


QUEEN  MARIE  THÉRÈSE 


61 


with  him.  I  have  heard  Madame  de  Maintenon  say 
that  the  King  having  sent  for  the  Queen  one  day, 
she  asked  her  to  go  with  her,  so  that  she  might  not 
appear  alone  in  his  presence;  but  that  she  only  con¬ 
ducted  her  to  the  door  of  the  room  and  there  took  the 
liberty  of  pushing  her  so  as  to  make  her  enter,  and 
that  she  observed  such  a  great  trembling  in  her  whole 
person  that  her  very  hands  shook  with  fright.” 

IIow,  with  a  wife  so  worthy  of  respect,  so  irre¬ 
proachable  as  Marie  Thérèse,  could  a  sovereign  who, 
like  Louis  XIV.,  had  the  notion  of  justice  and  in¬ 
justice,  of  respect  for  himself  and  his  people,  have 
so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  recognize,  publicly  and 
solemnly,  the  children  of  a  double  adultery?  This 
is  a  real  problem.  The  fault,  we  are  bound  to  say, 
was  less  due  to  the  King’s  pride  than  to  the  idolatry 
of  the  nation.  The  chief  offenders  were  those  ser¬ 
vile  courtiers  who  through  interest  and  cupidity  far 
more  than  through  admiration  deified  the  monarch 
in  open  Christendom,  and,  if  they  had  received  per¬ 
mission,  would  have  raised  altars  as  well  as  tri¬ 
umphal  arches  to  him.  Never  would  Louis  XIV. 
have  permitted  these  legitimations  if  public  opinion 
had  been  more  moral.  One  is  obliged  to  recognize 
that  in  this  affair  neither  the  clergy,  the  nobility,  nor 
the  people  at  large  possessed  the  necessary  energy 
and  dignity.  Great  scandals  are  accomplished  onlv 
by  degrees.  Sovereigns  do  not  yield  to  them  unless 
they  are  supported  by  the  base  sentiments  of  those 
around  them.  Louis  XIV.  had  at  first  no  thought 


62 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


of  legitimating  his  bastards,  still  less  of  putting 
them  in  the  line  of  succession  to  the  crown.  He 
was  led  to  it  by  a  combination  of  different  circum¬ 
stances:  in  the  first  place,  I  confess,  by  that  pride 
which  made  him  rate  himself,  like  another  Jove, 
above  the  laws  of  his  Olympus  ;  then  by  the  impulse, 
the  vertigo  of  those  audacious  sins,  those  péchés 
d' abondance  which,  as  Bossuet  says,  “wish  to  enjoy 
all  the  light  of  day  and  all  the  knowledge  of  heaven.” 
He  had  paternal  affection  also,  and  greater,  perhaps, 
than  all  these,  a  desire  to  rehabilitate  and  console 
the  women  of  whose  faults  he  had  been  the  cause. 

But  in  spite  of  everything,  the  legitimations  are 
monstrous  actions,  unjustifiable  attacks  upon  moral¬ 
ity,  society,  and  religion,  and  on  this  head  Saint- 
Simon’s  wrath  is  only  too  just.  But  does  not  the 
responsibility  fall,  in  part  at  least,  on  those  detest¬ 
able  flatterers  of  whom  Racine  speaks  who  are  the 
panders  and  slaves  of  royal  vices?  Does  not  one 
recall  these  curious  remarks  of  the  austere  Duke  de 
Saint-Simon  concerning  his  own  father:  “Louis 
XIII.  was  really  enamoured  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Hautefort.  .  .  .  My  father  was  young  and  gallant, 
and  he  could  not  understand  a  king  so  amorous  and 
so  little  able  to  conceal  it,  who  did  not  go  any 
farther.  He  thought  it  was  timidity,  and  on  this 
principle,  when  the  King  was  once  speaking  to  him 
passionately  about  this  girl,  my  father  proposed  to 
him  to  become  his  ambassador  and  bring  the  affair  to 
a  speedy  conclusion.” 


QUEEN  MARIE  THÉRÈSE 


63 


Could  we  believe  it?  The  man  who  urged  Louis 
XIV.  most  strongly  to  make  scandalously  fine  alli¬ 
ances  for  his  bastards  was  the  great  Condé.  The 
marriage  of  his  nephew,  Prince  de  Conti,  to  a  daugh¬ 
ter  of  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière,  and  that  of  his 
grandson  to  a  daughter  of  Madame  de  Montespan, 
overwhelmed  him  with  joy. 

“The  King,”  says  Madame  de  Caylus,  “would 
never  have  thought  of  raising  his  bastards  so  high 
but  for  the  anxiety  shown  by  the  two  Princes  of 
Condé  to  link  themselves  with  him  by  this  sort  of 
marriages.  Condé  hoped  to  efface  in  this  way  the 
impression  the  past  might  have  left  on  the  King’s 
mind;  his  son  displayed  the  zeal  and  baseness  of  a 
courtier  who  wanted  to  make  his  fortune.”  It  must 
be  admitted  that  the  attitude  of  such  a  man  as  the 
victor  of  Rocroy  is,  not  indeed  an  excuse,  but  an 
attenuating  circumstance  for  Louis  XIV.  When 
flatterers  arrive  at  a  certain  limit  one  cannot  demand 
wisdom  of  kings.  How  can  a  prince  believe  him¬ 
self  still  a  man  when  idolatrous  subjects  treat  him  as 
a  demigod?  We  find  but  one  thing  surprising,  and 
that  is  that,  in  spite  of  his  flatterers,  Louis  XIV. 
still  retained  so  much  good  sense  as  to  desire  and 
will  his  own  conversion. 

“It  is  very  true,”  says  the  Princess  Palatine, 
“  that  our  King  has  given  scandal  by  his  mistresses, 
but  he  has  had  a  great  repentance  for  it.”  He  had 
never  yielded  to  voluptuousness  withoiit  remorse, 
and  even  at  the  time  of  his  most  violent  passions,  a 


64 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


secret  struggle,  a  relentless  battle  between  pleasure 
and  duty  went  on  within  him.  In  the  very  height 
of  his  most  stormy  temptations  he  had  returns  to 
virtue.  Religious  faith  never  abandoned  him.  He 
never  but  once  failed  to  be  present  at  Mass,  and  that 
in  war-time  when  to  do  otherwise  was  impossible. 

From  the  1st  of  January,  1674,  he  had  brought 
about  a  considerable  modification  in  the  Queen’s 
household.  Suppressing  the  maids  of  honor,  several 
of  whom  had  doubtful  reputations,  he  had  set  about 
replacing  them  by  women  married  to  great  person¬ 
ages  and  specially  renowned  for  conjugal  fidelity. 
He  was  freeing  himself  by  degrees  from  the  tyranny 
of  his  senses,  and  his  passion  for  Madame  de  Monte- 
span  was  on  the  decline  when,  in  1680,  a  new  idol. 
Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges,  suddenly  kindled  a  new 
flame.  He  took  to  dancing  again  with  the  ardor  of 
a  very  young  man.  Like  Mademoiselle  de  La  Val- 
lière,  the  favorite  received  the  title  of  duchess. 
Her  sister  was  appointed  Abbess  of  Chelles,  just  as 
Madame  de  Montespan’s  sister  had  been  appointed 
Abbess  of  Fontevrault. 

In  1680,  on  New  Year’s  Day,  she  was  present  at 
the  King’s  Mass  “extraordinarily  decked  with  jewels 
on  a  robe  of  the  same  stuff  as  Her  Majesty’s,  and 
both  of  them  with  blue  ribbons.”^  La  Fontaine 
addressed  her  the  most  laudatory  of  epistles.  She 
seemed  at  the  height  of  favor  when,  carried  off  by  a 


1  Bussy  Rabutiu’s  Letters  to  La  Rivière,  January  15,  1680. 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  LA  VALLIERE, 


> 


t'.  ^  ' 


■  i  • 


/  ^  * 


QUEEN  MARIE  THÉRÈSE 


65 


sudden  death,  after  a  pregnancy,  June  28,  1681, 
she  once  more  proved  that,  as  Bossuet  has  said, 
health  is  but  a  name,  life  but  a  dream,  and  the 
graces  and  pleasures  only  a  dangerous  amusement. 

In  this  terrible  death  Louis  XIV.  beheld  a  lesson, 
a  warning  from  on  high,  and  thenceforth  he  returned 
in  good  earnest  to  the  principles  of  virtue  and  duty. 
Madame  de  Maintenou,  who  boasted  of  loving  him 
not  for  himself,  but  for  God,  used  all  her  influence 
to  keep  him  faithful  to  the  Queen.  When  he  Anally 
established  his  residence  at  Versailles,  in  1682,  that 
princess  was  satisfied  with  the  affection  he  evinced 
for  her.  Madame  de  Caylus  affirms  in  her  Souvenirs 
that  he  lavished  attentions  on  her  to  which  she  was 
unaccustomed.  He  saw  her  more  frequently  and 
tried  to  amuse  and  divert  her.  Her  son  the  Dau¬ 
phin,  and  her  daughter-in-law,  the  Bavarian  Dau- 
phiness,  also  showed  her  the  greatest  deference. 

Her  apartments  at  Versailles,  composed  of  five 
large  rooms,  ending  at  the  marble  staircase  at  one 
extremity  and  at  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors  at  the  other, 
were  furnished  magnificently.  The  Queen  occupied 
the  chamber  already  mentioned  in  the  introduction 
to  this  study,  and  from  which  may  be  seen  the 
Orangery,  the  Swiss  lake,  and  the  hills  of  Satory. 
She  was  fond  of  leaving  this  splendid  abode  in  order 
to  go  and  pray  in  convents  or  visit  hospitals.  She 
might  be  seen  waiting  on  the  sick  with  her  own 
royal  hands,  carrying  them  their  nourishment  like 
a  simple  infirmarian,  and  when  the  doctors  remarked 


66 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


on  this  in  the  interests  of  her  own  health,  she  replied 
that  she  could  not  employ  it  better  than  in  serving 
Jesus  Christ  in  the  persons  of  the  poor. 

Notwithstanding  the  return  of  affection  manifested 
for  her  by  the  King,  she  continued  to  live  humbly 
and  modestly,  busying  herself  with  her  domestic 
affairs,  and  not  with  those  of  State.  The  Gazette 
officielle  never  mentions  this  good  Queen  except  to 
announce  that  she  had  fulfilled  her  religious  duties 
in  her  parish  church  or  had  gone  to  spend  the  day 
with  the  Carmelites  of  the  rue  Bouloi. 

Marie  Thérèse,  happy  and  consoled,  rejoiced  in 
the  kindness  of  the  King  and  the  birth  of  her  grand¬ 
son,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  Far  from  being  jealous 
of  the  increasing  influence  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
she  congratulated  herself  on  it  as  one  cause  of  the 
pious  sentiments  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  never  could  it 
have  occurred  to  her  mind  that  Scarron’s  widow,  the 
former  governess  of  the  bastards,  would  soon  be  the 
King’s  wife,  and  Queen  of  France  in  all  but  name. 


IV 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 
ouïs  XIV.  had  repented  sincerely.  After 


I  J  the  death  of  Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges  he 
had  definitely  forsaken  mistresses,  and  was  giving 
edification  instead  of  scandal.  Madame  de  Monte- 
span,  who  was  treated  with  consideration  on  account 
of  her  birth  and  rank,  and  as  being  the  mother  of 
legitimated  children,  still  acted  as  superintendent  of 
the  Queen’s  household.  But  Louis  XIV.  never  saw 
her  except  in  public,  and  she  no  longer  counted  for 
anything  as  favorite  or  mistress.  In  spite  of  her 
desperate  efforts  to  retain  her  empire  she  was  forced 
to  let  the  left-hand  sceptre  slip  from  her  grasp,  and 
after  making  a  hard  battle  against  fate,  after  having 
employed  her  last  batteries,  she  was  obliged  to  own 
herself  irremediably  defeated.  In  1682  she  had 
given  up  the  struggle,  and  religion  was  offering 
her  a  balm  for  the  wounds  inflicted  by  spite  and 


pride. 


She  was  then  forty  years  old  and  still  preserved 
the  lustre  of  her  beauty.  She  did  not  owe  her 
defeat  to  the  diminution  r)f  her  charins,  but  rather 


68 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


to  the  progress  of  religious  sentiments  in  the  soul  of 
Louis  XIV. 

Before  examining  what  the  haughty  favorite  be¬ 
came,  let  us  see  what  she  had  been  in  the  days  of 
her  shameful  victories. 

A  haughty  and  opulent  beauty,  a  forest  of  fair 
hair,  flashing  blue  eyes,  a  complexion  of  splendid  car¬ 
nation  and  dazzling  whiteness,  one  of  those  alluring 
and  radiant  countenances  which  shed  brightness 
around  them  wherever  they  appear,  an  incisive, 
caustic  wit,  sparkling  with  life  and  animation,  an 
inextinguishable  thirst  for  riches  and  pleasure, 
luxury  and  domination,  the  manners  of  a  goddess 
audaciously  usurping  the  place  of  Juno  on  Olym¬ 
pus,  passion  without  love,  pride  without  dignity, 
splendor  without  poetry:  that  was  Madame  de 
Montespan. 

Born  in  1641,  at  the  château  of  Tonnay-Charente, 
of  the  Duke  de  Mortemart  and  Diana  de  Grand- 
seigne,  she  was  maid  of  honor  to  the  Queen  in  1660 
and  in  1663  was  married  to  the  Marquis  de  Monte¬ 
span.  She  had  been  brought  up  very  religiously  and 
went  to  communion  every  week.  Nothing,  at  this 
period,  could  have  made  her  foresee  the  sorry  rôle  to 
which  ambition  and  vanity,  far  more  than  an  impulse 
of  the  heart,  were  to  condemn  her  youth.  Moreover, 
we  must  do  her  the  justice  of  admitting  that  she  did 
not  succumb  without  a  struggle.  It  is  said  that  she 
entreated  her  imprudent  husband  to  take  her  away 
from  the  perils  of  the  court  while  there  was  still 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


69 


time.  It  cost  M.  de  Montespan  something  not  to 
have  been  more  jealous.  Madame  de  Caylus  remarks 
concerning  this  that  far  from  having  been  born 
depraved,  the  future  favorite  had  a  character  natu¬ 
rally  disinclined  to  gallantry  and  tending  towards 
virtue.  “She  was  flattered  at  being  mistress,  not 
solely  for  her  own  pleasure,  but  on  account  of  the 
passion  of  the  King.  She  believed  she  could  make 
him  always  desire  what  she  had  resolved  never  to 
grant  him.  She  was  in  despair  at  her  first  preg¬ 
nancy,  consoled  herself  for  the  second  one,  and  in 
all  the  others  carried  impudence  as  far  as  it  could 
go.”i 

Her  great  favor  lasted  about  thirteen  years.  This 
was  the  epoch  of  the  intoxication  of  courtiers  and 
the  prostration  of  peoples.  The  court  was  like  a 
sort  of  Christian  and  monarchical  Olympus  of  which 
King  Louis  XIV.  was  the  Jove.  “  Inferior  gods  and 
goddesses  moved  beneath  him.  Their  virtues  were 
extolled  and  their  very  vices  paraded  with  an  audac¬ 
ity  of  superiority  which  seemed  to  establish  between 
the  people  and  the  throne  the  difference  between  the 
morality  of  gods  and  that  of  men.  Louis  XIV.  had 
made  himself  accepted  as  an  exception  in  all  things, 
even  in  humanity.”^  The  most  admirable  geniuses 
had  become  the  accomplices  of  this  new  idolatry. 
Did  not  Molière  say  in  his  Amphitryon  :  — 


1  Souvenirs  of  Madame  de  Caylus. 

2  Lamartine,  Etude  sur  Fénelon. 


70 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


“  Un  partage  avec  Jupiter 
N’a  rien  du  tout  qui  déshonore, 

Et  sans  doute  il  ne  peut  être  que  glorieux 
De  se  voir  le  rival  du  souverain  des  Dieux.”  ^ 

M.  de  Montespan  was  not  of  this  opinion,  but  he 
was  considered  a  ridiculous  person,  a  fool. 

The  good  La  Fontaine,  offering  to  Madame  de 
Montespan  the  seventh  book  of  his  fables,  fairly- 
outstripped  the  limits  of  flattery  in  his  dedica¬ 
tion  :  — 


“  Sous  VOS  seuls  auspices  ces  vers 
Seront  juges,  malgré  l’envie. 

Dignes  des  yeux  de  l’univers. 

Je  ne  mérité  pas  une  faveur  si  grande  ; 

La  Fable  en  son  nom  la  demande  ; 

Vous  savez  quel  crédit  ce  mensonge  a  sur  nous. 

S’il  procure  à  mes  vers  le  bonheur  de  vous  plaire, 
Je  croirai  lui  devoir  un  temple  pour  salaire  : 

Mais  je  ne  veux  bâtir  des  temples  que  pour  vous.”  * 


1  A  partnership  -with  .Jupiter 

Has  nothing  at  all  dishonoring  in  it. 

And  doubtless  it  cannot  be  other  than  glorious 
To  behold  oneself  the  rival  of  the  sovereign  of  the  gods. 

2  Under  your  auspices  alone  these  verses 
Will  be  judged,  in  spite  of  en-ry. 

As  -worthy  of  the  eyes  of  the  universe. 

I  do  not  merit  so  great  a  favor  ; 

Fable  demands  it  on  her  own  behalf  ; 

You  know  what  credit  fiction  has  with  us. 

If  it  shall  procure  for  my  verses  the  happiness  of  pleasing  you, 
I  should  feel  that  I  owed  it  a  temple  as  reward  ; 

But  I  will  build  no  temples  save  for  you. 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


71 


Adulation  was  carried  so  far  that  the  courtiers 
were  grateful  to  the  favorite  for  having  given  seven 
children  ^  to  the  King,  and  made  no  adverse  criticism 
on  their  legitimation.  The  post  of  King’s  mistress 
was  considered  as  a  public  function,  a  great  court 
office,  having  its  rights  and  duties,  its  ceremonial 
and  etiquette.  Even  Colbert,  the  inflexible  minis¬ 
ter,  the  marble  man,  vir  marmoreus^  the  glacial  per¬ 
sonage  whom  Madame  de  Sévigné  styled  the  North, 
was  constantly  occupied  with  the  love  affairs  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  Madame  de  Montespan.  It  was  to  him 
that  the  King  wrote,  June  15,  1678:  “I  hear  that 
Montespan  allows  himself  to  say  indiscreet  things  ; 
he  is  a  fool  whom  you  will  do  me  the  kindness  to 
have  closely  watched.  ...  I  know  he  threatens  to 
see  his  wife,  and  as  he  is  capable  of  it,  and  the  con¬ 
sequences  might  be  dreaded,  I  rely  on  you  to  keep 
him  quiet.” 


1  Here  is  the  list  of  the  seven  children  of  Louis  XIV.  and 
Madame  de  Montespan  :  — 

1.  A  daughter,  born  in  1669,  who  died  at  the  age  of  three 
years  ; 

2.  The  Duke  du  Maine,  born  in  1670,  married  in  1692  to  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  Bourbon-Charolais,  died  in  1736  ; 

3.  The  Count  de  Vexin,  born  in  1672,  died  in  1683; 

4.  Mademoiselle  de  Nantes,  born  in  1673,  married  to  the  Duke 
de  Bourbon  in  1685,  died  in  1743  ; 

5.  Mademoiselle  de  Tours,  born  in  1674,  died  in  1681  ; 

6.  Mademoiselle  de  Blois,  born  in  1677,  married  in  1692  to  the 
Duke  de  Chartres  (the  future  regent),  died  in  1749; 

7.  The  Count  de  Toulouse,  born  in  1678,  married  in  1728  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Noailles,  died  in  1737. 


72 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


To  all  appearance  Madame  de  Montespan  was 
Her  beautiful  face  shone  with  the  glow  of 
her  apotheosis.  She  was  the  haughty  sultana,  the 
idol,  the  conquering  beauty.  Madame  de  Sévigné, 
the  great  admirer  of  success,  cast  ecstatic  glances 
toward  the  triumphant  mistress.  She  had  a  naïve 
enthusiasm  for  that  marvellous  robe  “of  gold  on 
gold,  re-embroidered  in  gold,  and  above  that  a 
shaggy  gold,  restitched  with  a  gold  mixed  with  a 
certain  gold,  which  makes  the  divinest  stuff  that  ever 
was  imagined.  ”  She  wrote  to  her  daughter  :  “  Madame 
de  Montespan  was  covered  with  diamonds  the  other 
day  ;  no  one  could  stand  the  lustre  of  such  a  divinity. 
.  .  .  O  my  daughter,  what  triumph  at  Versailles! 
what  redoubled  pride!  what  a  solid  establishment! 
what  pleasure,  even  by  distractions  and  absence!  ” 
And  yet  Madame  de  Montespan  was  troubled  and 
uneasy.  The  scandal  of  her  life  was  disturbed  by 
occasional  inclinations  toward  repentance.  Already 
there  was  going  on  in  her  soul  a  latent,  relentless 
war  between  heaven  and  earth,  between  duty  and 
sensual  pleasure.  “The  King,”  says  Madame  de 
Caylus,  “was  religious  at  bottom,  and  showed  it 
even  in  his  greatest  disorders  with  women,  for  that 
was  the  only  weakness  he  ever  had.  The  great 
feasts  caused  him  remorse,  for  he  was  equally 
troubled  at  not  performing  his  devotions  and  at 
performing  them  badly.  Madame  de  Montespan 
had  the  same  sentiments,  and  it  was  not  solely  to 
show  her  conformity  to  the  King  that  she  displayed 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


73 


them.  She  had  been  perfectly  well  brought  up. 
She  showed  it,  as  the  King  did  at  all  times,  and  I 
remember  to  have  heard  that  she  fasted  so  rigidly  in 
Lent  as  to  have  her  bread  weighed.” 

Saint-Simon  makes  the  same  remark.  He  says 
that  “great  glutton  and  gourmand  as  she  was, 
nothing  in  the  world  could  have  made  her  fail  to 
observe  the  regulations  of  the  Church  concerning 
the  fasts  of  Lent  and  the  Ember  Days,  and  she  left 
the  King  to  go  and  recite  some  prayers  every  day.” 

One  day  the  Duchess  d’Uzes  expressed  her  aston¬ 
ishment  at  such  religious  scruples.  “What!  Ma¬ 
dame,”  replied  the  favorite,  “because  I  do  one  bad 
thing  must  I  do  all  the  others  ?  ” 

Nothing  is  more  painful  for  the  soul  than  these 
half-pieties,  these  half-conversions,  these  bursts  of 
repentance  which  bring  the  fear  of  hell  and  take 
away  the  hope  of  paradise.  “Virtue,”  Massillon 
has  said,  “  is  a  hidden  manna  ;  to  taste  all  its  sweet¬ 
ness  you  must  fathom  it  thoroughly;  but  the  more 
you  advance,  the  more  do  consolations  abound,  the 
calmer  grow  the  passions,  the  straighter  are  the 
paths,  the  more  you  applaud  yourself  on  having 
broken  the  chains  which  you  did  not  drag  without 
regret  and  secret  sadness.  Thus,  so  long  as  you 
confine  yourself  to  mere  attempts  at  virtue,  you  will 
taste  nothing  but  its  repugnances  and  bitterness; 
and  as  you  have  not  the  fidelity  of  the  just,  you 
ought  not  to  expect  their  consolations.”^ 


1  Massillon,  Sermon  sur  le  salut. 


74 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Such  was  the  state  of  Madame  de  Montespan’s 
heart  when  in  Holy  Week  of  1675  she  wanted  to 
perform  her  Easter  duties  publicly  at  Versailles. 
The  priest  to  whom  she  addressed  herself,  the  Abbé 
Lécuyer,  flatly  refused  to  give  her  absolution  so  long 
as  the  scandal  of  adultery  continued.  Thereupon 
the  wrath  of  the  irascible  Duchess  was  kindled  and 
she  carried  her  complaint  to  Louis  XIV. 

The  King  summoned  the  curé  of  the  parish  to 
which  the  Abbé  Lécuyer  was  attaehed.  The  curé 
had  the  courage  to  sustain  his  vicar.  Then  Bossuet 
was  consulted.  The  worthy  successor  of  the  bishops 
of  the  primitive  Church  did  not  hesitate  a  single 
moment.  He  replied  that  in  such  circumstances  an 
entire,  absolute  separation  was  an  absolute  condition 
for  being  admitted  to  the  sacraments,  and  he  pro¬ 
claimed  “  the  imperious  duty  of  denying  absolution 
to  public  sinners  living  in  notorious  habits  of  dis¬ 
order  and  refusing  to  quit  them.”  Louis  XIV. 
bowed  respeetfully  to  the  decision  of  the  man  of 
God.  He  finally  resolved  to  break  with  Madame  de 
Montespan. 

This  most  unexpected  result  —  for  Louis  XIV.  was 
then  in  the  full  vigor  of  manhood  and  as  ardent  as 
ever  in  his  passion  for  his  mistress  —  was  due  to  the 
counsels  of  Bossuet  and  the  preaching  of  Bourda- 
loue. 

The  preaehers  had  a  real  influence  at  court,  and 
exercised  over  both  the  sovereign  and  society  at 
large  a  moral  ascendancy  which  has  been  described 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


75 


with  as  much  skill  as  exactness  by  a  distinguished 
ecclesiastic,  M.  the  Abbé  Hurel.^  Bourdaloue,  the 
admirable  orator,  so  grand  in  his  simplicity,  so 
venerable  in  his  modesty,  the  puissant,  irresistible 
dialectician  whose  compact  arguments  made  him 
excel  in  giving  pitched  battles  to  the  consciences  of 
his  hearers,  and  of  whom  the  great  Condé  said,  as 
he  saw  him  ascending  the  pulpit:  “Silence!  there 
is  the  enemy!”  Bourdaloue  was  without  contradic¬ 
tion  one  of  the  most  active  agents  in  the  conversion 
of  Louis  XIV.  He  had  preached  at  court  the  Ad¬ 
vent  of  1670  and  the  Lents  of  1672,  1674,  and  1675. 

Bold  as  a  tribune  and  courageous  as  an  apostle, 
he  turned  the  iron  in  the  wound.  The  pitiless 
enemy  of  adultery,  he  exclaimed  with  holy  candor: 
“  Have  you  not  seen  again  that  person,  the  reef  on 
which  your  firmness  and  your  constancy  have  been 
shattered?  Have  you  not  again  sought  the  occa¬ 
sions  so  dangerous  for  you  ?...  Ah  !  Christians, 
how  many  conversions  would  not  your  single  exam¬ 
ple  produce?  What  an  attraction  would  it  not  be 
for  certain  sinners,  discouraged  and  fallen  into 
despair,  if  they  could  say  to  themselves:  ‘There  is 
that  man  whom  we  have  seen  in  the  same  debauch¬ 
eries  as  ourselves,  and  behold  him  converted  and 
submissive  to  God.’”  Then,  addressing  himself 
more  directly  still  to  Louis  XIV.,  the  orator  added 

1  Les  Orateurs  sacrés  à  la  cour  de  Louis  XIV.  par  M.  l'Abbé 
Hurel.  We  recommend  this  curious  and  learned  work  to  all  who 
are  interested  in  studying  the  great  century. 


76 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


in  the  same  sermon:  “Truth  is  what  saves  kings; 
Your  Majesty  seeks  for  it,  loves  those  who  make  it 
known  to  him,  can  have  nothing  but  contempt  for 
those  who  disguise  it  from  him,  and,  far  from  resist¬ 
ing  it,  will  esteem  it  glorious  to  be  vanquished  by 
it.” 

Bossuet’s  exhortations  were  not  less  urgent.  His 
functions  as  preceptor  to  the  Dauphin  gave  him  fre¬ 
quent  access  to  the  King,  and  he  used  them  to  plead 
energetically  the  cause  of  duty  and  virtue.  It  was 
he  who,  in  his  sermon  on  the  feast  of  the  Purifica¬ 
tion,  delivered  at  court,  had  said:  “Let  us  fly  dan¬ 
gerous  occasions  and  not  presume  upon  our  strength. 
One  cannot  long  resist  his  vigor  when  he  has  to 
employ  it  against  himself.”  It  was  he  who  wrote 
to  M.  de  Bellefond:  “Pray  to  God  for  me;  pray 
Him  either  to  deliver  me  from  the  greatest  burden 
that  can  be  imposed  on  a  man,  or  else  to  put  to  death 
all  that  is  man  in  me,  so  that  He  may  act  alone. 
God  be  thanked,  during  the  whole  course  of  this 
affair  I  have  not  yet  thought  that  I  am  in  the 
world;  but  that  is  not  all;  one  should  be,  like  Saint 
Ambrose,  a  real  man  of  God,  a  man  of  the  other  life, 
in  whom  all  things  speak,  whose  every  word  is  an 
oracle  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  whose  whole  conduct  is 
heavenly;  pray,  pray,  I  entreat  you.” 

Louis  XIV.,  reconciled  with  God  and  with  him¬ 
self,  had  received  his  Easter  Communion  on  Holy 
Saturday  (April,  1675).  A  few  days  later,  on 
quitting  Versailles  to  rejoin  his  army,  he  declared 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  16S2 


77 


to  the  Queen,  to  Bossuet,  and  to  Père  La  Chaise, 
tliat  all  was  finally  at  an  end  between  him  and 
Madame  de  Montespan.  The  favorite  had  sub¬ 
mitted.  She  also  had  communicated  and  had  taken 
shelter  at  Paris  in  a  modest  and  unknown  house. 
Bossuet  went  thither  to  give  her  instructions  and 
conlirm  her  in  the  right  path.  “I  find  Madame  de 
Montespan  sufficiently  tranquil,”  he  wrote  to  Louis 
XIV.  “  She  occupies  herself  greatly  in  good  works. 
I  see  her  much  affected  by  the  verities  I  propose  to 
her,  and  which  are  the  same  I  uttered  to  Your 
Majesty.  To  her  as  to  you  I  have  offered  the  words 
by  which  God  commands  us  to  yield  our  whole  hearts 
to  Him;  they  have  caused  her  to  shed  many  tears. 
May  God  establish  these  verities  in  the  depths  of 
both  your  hearts,  in  order  that  so  many  tears,  so 
much  violence,  so  many  efforts  as  you  have  made  to 
subdue  yourselves  may  not  be  in  vain  !  ” 

The  attitude  of  Bossuet  throughout  this  affair  has 
been  criticised  with  culpable  levity.  Madame  de 
Sévigné,  who  does  not  always  weigh  her  expressions 
and  too  frequently  judges  men  and  things  with  the 
giddiness  of  a  worldly  woman,  has  spoken  of  a  con¬ 
formity  between  the  counsels  of  the  bishop  and  those 
of  Madame  de  Montespan’s  adherents,  of  a  strong 
accord  between  the  interests  of  the  policy  of  the 
King’s  mistress  and  those  of  Christianity.^  Cha¬ 
teaubriand  has  been  still  more  unjust  in  his  Analyse 


1  Letter  to  Madame  de  Grignan,  July  13,  1675. 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


raisonnée  de  V Histoire  de  France.  “We  ask  our¬ 
selves,”  he  says,  “how  a  prince  could  have  a  recog¬ 
nized  mistress  whom  honor,  genius,  and  virtue  came 
to  worship  ;  this  idea  made  its  entrance  in  the  seven¬ 
teenth  century.  Bossuet  undertook  to  reconcile 
Louis  XIV.  and  Madame  de  Montespan.” 

Nothing  can  be  more  inexact  than  this  assertion, 
to  which  M.  Floquet  and  M.  Pierre  Clément  have 
already  done  justice. 

No;  Bossuet  was  not  one  “of  these  teachers  who, 
in  their  unfortunate  and  inhuman  complaisance, 
their  deadly  pity,  lay  cushions  under  the  elbows 
of  sinners  and  seek  a  cloak  for  their  passions.”^ 
Was  the  man  a  pander  who  wrote  to  Louis  XIV. 
in  July,  1675:  “Sire,  the  feast  of  Pentecost  is  ap¬ 
proaching,  when  Your  Majesty  has  resolved  to  com¬ 
municate.  Although  I  doubt  not  that  5mu  have 
thought  seriously  of  what  you  have  promised  to 
God,  as  you  have  requested  me  to  remind  you  of  it, 
the  time  has  come  when  I  feel  myself  still  more 
bound  to  do  so.  Reflect,  Sire,  that  you  cannot  be 
truly  converted  if  you  do  not  labor  to  remove  from 
your  heart  not  merely  the  sin  but  the  occasion  which 
leads  you  to  it.  True  conversion  does  not  content 
itself  with  destroying  the  fruits  of  death,  as  says  the 
Scripture,  that  is  to  say,  the  sins ,  but  it  goes  even 
to  the  root,  which  will  infallibly  cause  them  to 
sprout  forth  again  if  it  be  not  eradicated.” 


1  Bossuet,  Oraison  funèbre  de  Canet. 


MABAME  BE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


79 


With  what  respectful  firmness,  what  nobility  of 
thought  and  language,  the  great  bishop  addresses 
himself  to  the  great  King!  “I  hope,”  he  writes  in 
the  same  letter,  “  that  the  great  matters  which  daily 
occupy  Your  Majesty  more  and  more,  will  greatly 
aid  in  curing  you.  Nothing  is  talked  of  now  but 
the  beauty  of  your  troops  and  what  they  are  capable 
of  executing  under  so  great  a  leader.  For  my  part. 
Sire,  I  am  all  the  while  secretly  thinking  of  a  far 
more  important  war  and  a  much  more  difficult  vic¬ 
tory  which  God  proposes  to  you. 

“Meditate,  Sire,  on  these  words  of  the  Son  of 
God;  they  seem  to  have  been  uttered  for  great  kings 
and  conquerors  :  What  doth  it  profit  a  man.  He  says, 
to  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul? 
And  what  gain  can  recompense  him  for  so  great  a 
loss?  Of  what  use  will  it  be  to  you.  Sire,  to  be 
redoubtable  and  victorious  externally,  if  with  in  you 
are  vanquished  and  a  captive  ?  Pray  God  then  that 
He  may  set  you  free  ;  I  will  so  pray  to  Him  with 
all  my  heart.  My  anxieties  for  your  salvation  in¬ 
crease  from  day  to  day,  because  I  daily  understand 
better  what  your  dangers  are.  May  God  bless  Your 
Majesty  !  May  God  grant  you  victory,  and,  by  vic¬ 
tory,  peace  within  and  without!  The  more  sincerely 
Your  Majesty  gives  your  heart  to  God,  the  more 
you  place  your  hope  and  confidence  in  Him,  the 
more  also  will  you  be  protected  by  His  powerful 
hand.” 

This  letter  produced  an  impression  on  the  soul  of 


80 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Louis  XIV.  He  communicated  on  Whitsunday, 
June  2,  in  the  camp  of  Latines,  two  days  before 
Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière  was  professed  as  a 
Carmelite  nun.  Madame  de  Montespan  also  ap¬ 
proached  the  Holy  Table.  It  was  believed  that  a 
serious  conversion  had  been  effected.  The  Marquise 
had  returned  to  her  château  of  Clagny,  near  Ver¬ 
sailles.  The  Queen,  always  good  and  generous, 
forgave  her  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart  and  allowed 
her  to  perform  her  functions  as  lady  of  the  palace. 

Well-informed  people  were  not  greatly  touched 
by  the  pious  dispositions  of  the  haughty  Marquise 
who,  far  from  appearing  ashamed  of  the  scandals  she 
had  given,  lorded  it  over  the  magnificent  construc¬ 
tions  of  her  Clagny  palace  like  Dido  in  the  midst  of 
rising  Carthage.  “You  cannot  imagine,”  wrote 
Madame  de  Sévigné,  June  12,  1675,  “what  triumph 
she  is  in  amongst  her  workmen,  who  number  some 
twelve  hundred;  the  palace  of  Appolidon  and  the 
gardens  of  Armida  are  a  light  description  of  it.” 
While  the  poor  Queen,  deceived  once  more,  visited 
Clagny  and  took  Madame  de  Montespan  sometimes 
to  the  Trianon  and  sometimes  to  the  Carmelite  con¬ 
vent,  a  secret  correspondence  had  been  renewed 
between  the  King  and  his  mistress.  Louis  XIV., 
still  at  the  camp  of  Latines,  wrote  to  Colbert  on 
June  5:  “  Continue  to  do  what  Miidame  de  Monte¬ 
span  wishes.  Send  me  word  what  orange-trees  have 
been  taken  to  Clagny.”  And  on  the  8th  of  the  same 
month  :  “  The  expense  is  excessive,  and  I  see  from 


MADAME  DE  MON  TE  SP  AN  IN  1682 


81 


this  that  nothing  is  impossible  to  you  when  it  is  a 
question  of  pleasing  me.  Madame  de  Montespan 
sends  me  word  that  you  have  acquitted  yourself 
very  well  in  what  I  commanded,  and  that  you  are 
always  asking  if  she  wants  anything;  continue  al¬ 
ways  to  do  so.”  The  flame,  far  from  being  extinct, 
was  about  to  burn  more  ardently  than  ever. 

Intoxicated  with  his  new  triumphs  and  forgetful 
of  the  sacred  promises  made  at  the  hour  of  departure, 
Louis  XIV.,  leaving  his  army  of  Flanders,  returned 
to  court  after  an  absence  of  several  months  (July, 
1675).  Bossuet,  who  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  had 
not  been  able  to  prevent  Madame  de  Montespan ’s 
return,  went  to  meet  the  sovereign  at  Luzarches. 
The  mere  sight  of  the  austere  prelate  was  a  mute 
reproach  to  the  King.  As  soon  as  he  perceived 
Bossuet,  whose  face  wore  an  expression  of  great 
sadness,  he  exclaimed  quickly  :  “  Say  nothing  to  me, 
sir,  say  nothing  to  me  ;  I  have  given  my  orders  and 
they  will  be  executed.” 

The  whole  court  was  anxious  to  see  what  would 
happen.  It  was  agreed,  says  Madame  de  Caylus, 
that  the  King  should  come  to  Madame  de  Monte- 
span’s  house,  but,  in  order  to  give  the  scandal¬ 
mongers  no  occasion  for  faultfinding,  it  was  also 
agreed  that  the  gravest  and  most  respectable  ladies 
of  the  court  should  be  present  at  this  interview. 

“  The  King  came  therefore  to  Madame  de  Monte- 
span’s  house,  as  had  been  decided;  but  he  gradually 
di-ew  her  into  a  window  seat,  where  they  whispered 


82 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


for  a  long  time,  wept,  and  said  what  is  usually  said 
in  such  cases;  afterwards  they  made  a  profound 
reverence  to  these  venerable  matrons  and  passed  into 
another  chamber,  and  from  thence  came  Madame  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans  and  afterward  M.  the  Count  of 
Toulouse.” 

Madame  de  Caylus  adds  in  her  Souvenirs^  always 
written  with  subtlety  and  malice:  “Here  I  cannot 
refuse  to  express  a  thought  which  occurs  to  my 
mind.  It  appears  to  me  that  the  traces  of  this  com¬ 
bat  of  love  and  jubilee  may  still  be  seen  in  the 
character,  the  physiognomy,  and  the  whole  person  of 
Madame  the  Duchess  of  Orleans.” 

To  judge  from  appearances,  the  favorite  had  re¬ 
gained  all  her  empire.  “Her  beauty  is  extreme,” 
wrote  Madame  de  Sévigné.  “  Her  attire  is  like  her 
beauty,  and  her  beauty  like  her  attire.  .  .  I  have 
been  told  that  the  other  day  Quanto  ^  was  seen  lean¬ 
ing  her  head  familiarly  on  her  friend’s  shoulder;  it 
was  thought  this  affectation  was  meant  to  convey: 
‘  I  am  better  off  than  ever.  ’  ” 

Some  days  later  Madame  de  Sévigné  declared  that 
the  favorite’s  star  was  on  the  decline.  “  Quanto’s 
star  is  growing  pale;  there  are  tears,  natural  cha¬ 
grin,  affected  gaiety,  sulkiness.  People  look,  they 
observe,  they  think  they  see  rays  of  light  on  coun¬ 
tenances  which,  a  month  ago,  they  found  unworthy 

^  Letter  of  August  7,  1676. 

2  Quanto  and  Quantora  are  the  sobriquets  given  by  Madame  de 
Sévigné  to  Madame  de  Montespan. 


MABAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


83 


to  be  compared  with  others.”^  “Everybody  thinks 
that  the  friend  is  no  longer  in  love.  .  .  .  On  tlie 
other  hand,  the  attitude  of  friendship  is  not  definitely 
taken  ;  so  much  beauty  still  and  so  much  pride  do 
not  easily  take  a  second  place.  Jealousies  are  very 
keen;  but  did  jealousies  ever  prevent  anything?”^ 
The  witty  Marquise  concludes  by  this  very  just  re¬ 
flection  :  “  If  Quanto  had  really  tied  her  bonnet- 
strings  at  Easter  the  year  she  returned  to  Paris,  she 
would  not  be  in  her  present  agitation  ;  she  was  well- 
inclined  to  take  this  step;  but  human  weakness  is 
great,  people  like  to  husband  the  remains  of  beauty, 
and  this  economy  ruins  more  than  it  enriches.”^ 

Discontent  with  oneself  ;  the  lassitude  of  illicit 
loves  ;  the  disquiet  of  a  troubled  soul  which  is  still 
seeking  hapjiiness  in  vice  but  commences  to  see  that 
it  can  only  be  found  in  virtue  ;  the  remorse  which 
will  not  be  stifled;  the  secret  sadness  that  gnaws 
the  soul,  —  Louis  XIV.,  hesitating  between  good  and 
evil,  had  arrived  at  these  premonitory  symptoms  of 
repentance  of  which  Saint  Augustine’s  Confessions 
give  so  striking  a  description.  Meanwhile,  unfaith¬ 
ful  to  both  his  wife  and  his  mistress,  he  was  still 
paying  court  to  the  Princess  de  Soubise,  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  Fontanges,  and  other  idols,  worshipped  on 
one  day  only  to  be  abandoned  on  the  next.  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Sévigné  wrote,  April  6,  1680:  “Madame 
de  Montespan  is  enraged.  She  wept  a  good  deal 

1  Letter  of  September  11,  1076.  ^  Letter  of  September  30. 

®  Letter  of  October  10. 


84 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


yesterday.  You  can  judge  of  the  martyrdom  her 
pride  suffers,  and  it  is  still  more  outraged  by  the 
high  favor  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.”  And  Bussy 
Rabutin,  April  30  of  the  same  year:  “Madame  de 
Montespan  is  fallen.  The  King  no  longer  looks  at 
her,  and  you  may  be  sure  the  courtiers  follow  his 
example.” 

Louis  XIV.  thought  to  console  her  for  the  triumph 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges  by  appointing  her 
superintendent  of  the  household  to  the  Queen,  who, 
“wishing  to  gratify  her  and  treat  her  honorably,” 
granted  her  a  pension  under  this  title  (April,  1679). 
But  the  repudiated  favorite,  the  mistress  once 
“thundering  and  triumphant,”  was  nevertheless  in 
despair.  Her  enemies,  blinded  by  hatred,  accused 
her,  in  defiance  of  all  truth,  of  having  poisoned  her 
rival,  the  Duchess  of  Fontanges,  and  the  correspond¬ 
ence  of  the  Princess  Palatine  shows  the  following 
traces  of  this  odious  and  unjust  suspicion:  “Ma¬ 
dame  de  Montespan  was  an  incarnate  fiend,  but  the 
Fontanges  was  good  and  simple.  The  latter  is  dead, 
they  say,  because  the  former  put  poison  in  her  milk. 
I  do  not  know  whether  this  is  true,  but  what  I  do 
know  well  is  that  two  of  the  Fontanges  people  died, 
saying  publicly  that  they  had  been  poisoned.” 

Louis  XIV.,  thenceforth  satisfied  as  to  the  bitter¬ 
ness,  the  satiety,  and  the  anguish  of  guilty  passions, 
at  last  returned  to  God.  The  work  of  Bossuet  had 
been  accomplished.  Saint-Simon,  who  does  full 
justice  to  the  conduct  of  the  saintly  prelate,  says 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  IN  1682 


85 


concerning  him  :  “  He  often  spoke  to  the  sovereign 
with  a  freedom  worthy  of  the  first  centuries  and  first 
bishops  of  the  Church  ;  he  interrupted  the  course  of 
the  disorder  many  times;  at  last  he  made  it  end.” 

The  conversion  of  Louis  XIV.  had  this  time  a 
definitive  character;  but  this  result  must  not  be 
attributed  solely  to  religion  ;  it  was  also  due  to  the 
influence  of  the  woman  of  whom  we  are  about  to 
speak:  Madame' de  Maintenon. 


V 


MADAINIE  DE  MAESTTENON  IN  1682 


HY  are  we  so  tender  hearted  for  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  La  Vallière?  I  greatly  fear  it  is 


on  account  of  her  sin,  not  on  account  of  her  repent¬ 
ance.  Why  are  we  so  hard  towards  Madame  de 
Maintenon  ?  I  greatly  fear  it  is  on  account  of  her 
virtue.”  This  remark  of  an  eminent  critic,  M. 
Hippolyte  Rigault,  is  very  just.  It  agrees  with  the 
opinion  of  another  not  less  enlightened  judge.  “  It 
seems,”  says  M.  Saint-Marc  Girardin,  “as  if  the 
world  and  posterity  begrudged  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  a  triumph  gained  by  reason  on  behalf  of 
honesty.  Unable  to  prevent  her  from  succeeding  by 
reason,  the  world  indemnified  itself  by  giving  her  a 
reputation  for  frigidity  and  harshness  very  contrary 
to  her  character.  Since  reason  must  needs  be  trium¬ 
phant,  the  world  insisted  that  it  shoulc^  at  least  be 
unamiable.” 

A  fair  and  luminous  figure  has  been  overshadowed. 
We  forget  that  the  woman  represented  under  a 
gloomy,  almost  sinister  aspect,  was  a  charmer,  an 
enchantress  whom  Fénelon  characterized  as  “reason 


86 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  IN  1682 


87 


speaking  through  the  mouth  of  the  Graces,”  whom 
Racine  had  in  mind  when  writing  these  verses  of 
Esther  :  — 

“Je  ne  trouve  qu’en  vous  je  ne  sais  quelle  grâce 
Qui  me  charme  toujours,  et  jamais  ne  me  lasse.”  ^ 

Madame  de  Maintenon’s  adversaries  carried  the 
day  at  first  against  her  admirers.  But  our  own 
epoch,  impassioned  for  historical  verities,  has  revised 
a  false  judgment. 

Two  able  and  convinced  writers,  the  Duke  de 
Noailles  and  M.  Théophile  Lavallée,  full  of  respect 
for  a  memory  unjustly  accused,  have,  as  one  may 
say,  succeeded  in  resuscitating  the  true  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  Baron  de  Walckenaër  had  already 
called  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  woman,  appre¬ 
ciated  in  such  diverse  fashions,  is  the  one  historical 
personage  concerning  whom  we  possess  the  most 
documents  proceeding  from  her  mouth  or  written 
by  her  pen.  “Hence  it  is  to  be  regretted,”  said  he, 
“  that  even  the  most  judicious  historians  have  pre¬ 
ferred  contemporary  satires  to  the  certain  and  au¬ 
thentic  testimony  furnished  by  herself,  and  have 
converted  a  simple  and  interesting  history  into  a 
vulgar  and  incomprehensible  romance.” 

At  present  the  truth  has  come  to  light.  Madame 
de  Maintenon’s  defenders  have  left  nothing  remain^ 


1  Only  in  you  I  find  a  nameless  grace 
Which  charms  me  always  and  which  never  tires. 


88 


THE  WO.VEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


ing  of  the  invectives  of  Saint-Simon  and  the  Princess 
Palatine  against  a  woman  who  deserves  the  esteem 
of  posterity  whatever  malevolence  may  say.  Since 
the  publication  of  the  Duke  de  Noailles’s  fine  work 
there  has  been  a  sort  of  literary  tourney  on  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  the  great  critic 
Sainte-Beuve  has  been  umpire.  “M.  Lavallée,”  he 
says,  “  has  experienced  what  happens  to  all  fair 
minds  who  approach  this  distinguished  person  and 
take  pains  to  know  her  in  her  ordinary  life.  .  .  .  He 
has  done  justice  to  that  mass  of  fantastic  and  odi¬ 
ously  vague  imputations  which  have  long  been  in 
circulation  concerning  the  pretended  historical  rôle 
of  this  celebrated  woman.  He  has  seen  her  as  she 
was,  wholly  occupied  with  the  King’s  salvation,  his 
reform,  his  decent  amusements,  the  interior  of  the 
royal  family,  and  the  amelioration  of  the  people.” 

The  revolutionary  school,  which  likes  to  drag  the 
memory  of  the  great  King  through  the  mud,  natu¬ 
rally  detests  the  eminent  woman  who  was  his  com¬ 
panion,  his  friend,  and  his  consoler.  Writers  of 
this  school  would  like  to  make  of  her  a  type  not 
simply  odious  and  fatal,  but  ungraceful,  antipathetic, 
without  radiance,  charm,  or  any  sort  of  fascination. 
She  is  too  frequently  recalled  to  mind  under  the 
aspect  of  a  worn  old  woman,  stiff  and  severe,  with 
tearless  eyes  and  a  face  without  a  smile.  We  forget 
that  in  her  youth  she  was  one  of  the  prettiest  women 
of  her  time-  that  her  beauty  was  wonderfully  pre¬ 
served,  and  that  in  her  old  age  she  retained  that 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  IN  1682 


89 


superiority  of  style  and  language,  that  distinction  of 
manner  and  exquisite  tact,  that  gentle  firmness  of 
character,  that  charm  and  elevation  of  mind,  which 
at  every  period  of  her  life  gained  her  so  much  praise 
and  so  many  friends. 

A  rapid  glance  at  a  career  so  full  of  incident  and 
so  curious  to  study  will  suffice  to  make  us  under¬ 
stand  how  much  sympathetic  charm  must  have  per¬ 
tained  to  the  woman  who  could  please  Scarron  and 
Louis  XIV.,  Ninon  de  Lenclos  and  Madame  de 
Sévigné,  Madame  de  Montespan  and  the  Queen, 
great  ladies  and  nuns,  prelates  and  little  children. 

Françoise  d’Aubigné,  the  future  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  came  into  the  world,  November  27,  1635, 
in  a  prison  at  Niort,  where  her  father  was  confined, 
covered  with  debts  and  under  an  accusation  of  con¬ 
niving  with  the  enemy.  Cradled  amid  lamentations 
instead  of  tender  lullabies,  she  began  life  sadly. 
On  coming  out  of  prison,  her  father  took  her  at  the 
age  of  three  years  to  Martinique,  where  he  went  to 
seek  his  fortune.  He  lost  all  he  had  at  the  gaming¬ 
table  and  died,  leaving  his  wife  and  child  in  poverty. 
When  she  was  ten  years  old  Françoise  d’Aubigné 
returned  to  France.  Her  mother  confided  her  to 
the  care  of  an  aunt,  Madame  de  Villette,  who  brought 
her  up  in  the  Protestant  religion,  of  which  her  ances¬ 
tor,  the  celebrated  Théodore  Agrippa  d’Aubigné,  had 
been  an  intrepid  champion.  “I  very  much  fear,” 
wrote  Madame  d’Aubigné  to  Madame  de  Villette, 
“that  this  poor  little  galeuse  may  give  you  a  good 


90 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


deal  of  trouble;  that  will  be  the  result  of  your 
goodness  in  being  willing  to  take  her.  God  give 
her  the  grace  to  be  able  to  requite  you  for  it  !  ”  ^ 
Some  time  afterward,  Françoise  was  withdrawn  from 
the  Protestant  hands  of  Madame  de  Villette  and 
entrusted  to  those  of  another  and  very  zealous 
Catholic  relative,  Madame  de  Neuillant.  “I  ruled 
in  the  farmyard,”  she  said  afterward,  “and  it  was 
there  my  reign  commenced.  ...  A  little  basket 
containing  our  luncheon  was  hung  on  our  arms,  and 
we  were  given  a  little  book  of  Pibrac’s  quatrains, 
of  which  we  had  to  learn  several  pages  every  day. 
Along  with  this  a  switch  was  put  in  our  hands,  and 
we  were  charged  to  prevent  the  turkeys  from  going 
where  they  ought  not.”  It  is  pretended  that  at  this 
period  she  received  her  first  declaration  of  love,  and 
that  from  a  young  peasant.  Did  she  recall  it  on  the 
day  of  her  marriage  with  the  great  King? 

She  was  afterwards  placed  in  a  convent  of  Ursu- 
lines  at  Niort,  and  subsequently  in  that  of  the 
Ursulines  of  rue  Saint-Jacques  at  Paris,  where  she 
abjured  Protestantism,  but  not  without  a  vigorous 
resistance.  She  already  possessed  that  gift  of  pleas¬ 
ing  which  she  retained  throughout  her  life.  “  In  my 
childhood,”  she  has  said  herself,^  “I  was  the  best 
little  creature  that  you  can  imagine.  ...  I  was 
really  what  is  called  a  good  child,  so  much  so  that 
everybody  loved  me.  .  .  .  When  I  was  a  little 


1  Letter  of  July  28,  1646. 


*  Entretiens  de  Saint- Cyr. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  IN  1682 


91 


larger  I  lived  in  the  convents  ;  you  know  how  much 
I  was  loved  by  my  mistresses  and  my  companions. 
...  I  thought  of  nothing  but  obliging  them  and 
making  myself  their  servant  from  morning  to  night.” 

An  orphan  and  without  any  resources,  Françoise 
d’Aubigné,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  was  married  in 
1652  to  the  famous  poet  Scarron,  who  was  only  forty- 
two  years  old,  but  paralyzed,  crippled  in  all  his  mem¬ 
bers,  —  Scarron,  the  burlesque  author,  the  buffoon 
par  excellence^  who  demands  a  brevet  as  Queen’s 
invalid,  laughs  at  his  afflictions,  derides  himself  and 
his  pains,  and  who,  while  resembling,  as  he  said,  a 
letter  Z,  while  “liaving  his  arms  shortened  as  well 
as  his  legs  and  his  fingers  as  much  as  his  arms,” 
while  being,  in  fine,  “an  abridgment  of  human 
misery,”  amuses  all  the  French  social  world  by  his 
inexhaustible  fancy,  his  frank,  Gallic,  Rabelaisian 
gaiety.  When  the  marriage  contract  is  drawn  up, 
Scarron  declares  that  he  acknowledges  in  his  future 
wife  four  louis  of  income,  two  large  and  roguish 
eyes,  a  very  fine  figure,  a  pair  of  beautiful  hands, 
and  much  wit.  The  notary  asks  him  what  settle¬ 
ment  he  proposes  to  make  on  his  wife.  “  Immortal¬ 
ity,”  he  answers. 

What  tact  must  not  a  girl  of  seventeen  have  needed 
to  make  herself  respected  in  the  society  of  the  bur¬ 
lesque  poet  who  said:  “I  shall  not  make  her  commit 
any  follies,  but  I  shall  teach  her  a  good  many.” 
Just  the  contrary  is  what  will  happen.  Françoise 
d’Aubigné  will  moralize  Scarron.  She  will  make 


92 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSxllLLES 


his  salon  one  of  the  most  distinguished  social  centres 
of  Paris.  The  best  people  will  regard  it  as  an  honor 
to  be  admitted  there.  A  young  noble  of  the  court 
will  be  heard  to  say  :  “  If  it  were  a  question  of  tak¬ 
ing  liberties  with  the  Queen  or  with  Madame 
Scarron,  I  would  not  deliberate:  I  would  sooner 
take  them  with  the  Queen.”  Even  Ninon  de  Len- 
clos,  Scarron’s  friend,  will  bow  before  such  virtue. 
And  yet  it  is  not  admirers,  aspirants,  who  are  lack¬ 
ing  to  the  poet’s  wife,  the  belle  Indienne,  as  people 
like  to  call  her,  the  siren  of  whom  Petitot  has  made 
such  a  charming  picture  in  enamel,  and  whom 
Mademoiselle  de  Scudéry  celebrates  in  enthusiastic 
terms  in  her  romance  Clélie,  under  the  pseudonym 
of  Lyrianne.  Queen  Christina  of  Sweden  says  to 
Scarron  himself  that  she  is  not  surprised  to  find  him 
the  gayest  man  in  Paris,  in  spite  of  his  afflictions, 
seeing  that  he  has  the  most  amiable  wife  in  Paris. 

With  so  good  and  charming  a  companion  the  poor 
poet  has  less  merit  in  supporting  pain  more  patiently 
than  the  stoics  of  antiquity.  He  died  in  October, 
1660,  in  very  Christian  sentiments,  and  says  on  his 
deathbed  :  “  My  only  regret  is  that  I  can  leave  no 
property  to  my  wife,  whom  I  have  every  imaginable 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with.” 

As  a  widow  Madame  Scarron  seeks  esteem,  not 
love.  To  please  while  remaining  virtuous,  to  en¬ 
dure,  if  need  be,  privations  and  even  poverty,  but  to 
win  the  title  of  a  strong  woman,  to  deserve  the  sym¬ 
pathy  and  approbation  of  honest  people,  such  is  the 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  IN  1682 


93 


aim  of  all  her  efforts.  Well  tliout^h  very  simply 
dressed;  discreet  and  modest,  intelligent  and  dis¬ 
tinguished,  with  that  inborn  elegance  which  luxury 
cannot  give  and  which  only  comes  by  nature;  pious 
with  a  sincere  and  gentle  piety;  less  occupied  with 
herself  than  with  others;  talking  well  and,  which 
is  much  rarer,  knowing  how  to  listen;  taking  an 
interest  in  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  her  friends  ;  skil¬ 
ful  in  amusing  and  consoling  them;  she  is  justly 
regarded  as  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  superior 
women  in  Paris.  Economical  and  simple  in  her 
tastes,  she  makes  her  accounts  balance  perfectly, 
thanks  to  an  annual  pension  of  two  thousand  livres 
granted  her  by  Queen  Anne  of  Austria.  She  is 
cordially  received  by  Mesdames  de  Sévigné,  de  Cou¬ 
langes,  de  La  Fayette,  d’Albret,  de  Richelieu.  This 
is  the  most  tranquil  and  doubtless  the  happiest 
period  of  her  life.  But  the  death  of  her  benefac¬ 
tress,  the  Queen-mother  (January  20,  1GG6),  deprives 
her  of  the  pension  which  is  her  only  resource.  A 
noble  who  is  very  rich,  but  old  and  a  debauchee, 
asks  her  in  marriage,  but  she  refuses  him.  She  is 
on  the  point  of  expatriating  herself  to  follow  the 
Princess  de  Nemours,  who  is  about  to  marry  the 
King  of  Portugal.  Her  star  retains  her  in  France, 
where  she  will  one  day  be  almost  Queen.  Sbe 
writes  to  Mademoiselle  d’Artigny:  “Contrive  for 
me,  I  entreat  you,  the  honor  of  being  presented  to 
Madame  de  Montespan  when  I  go  to  bid  you  adieu  ; 
so  that  I  may  not  have  to  reproach  myself  with 


94 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


having  quitted  France  without  having  seen  its  won¬ 
der.”  Madame  de  Montespan  is  not  yet  the  mis¬ 
tress  of  Louis  XIV.,  but  her  already  famous  beauty 
and  her  position  as  lady  of  the  Queen’s  palace  gives 
her  influence.  She  finds  Madame  Scarron  charming 
and  obtains  the  renewal  of  her  pension  of  two  thou¬ 
sand  livres,  which  prevents  her  going  to  Portugal. 

Rejoiced  at  this  solution  of  her  difficulties,  the 
beautiful  widow,  wholly  occupied  with  serious  books 
and  works  of  charity,  reading  the  Book  of  Job  and 
the  maxims  of  La  Rochefoucauld,  visiting  the  poor 
and  bestowing  alms  in  spite  of  the  slenderness  of 
her  income,  installs  herself  very  modestly  in  a  small 
apartment  on  the  rue  des  Tournelles.  Here  it  is 
that  capricious  Fortune  is  coming  to  surprise  her. 
Madame  de  Montespan  has  become  the  mistress  of 
the  King.  Already  she  has  had  two  children  by 
him:  a  daughter,  born  in  1669,  who  will  live  but 
three  years;  and  a  son,  born  in  1670,  who  will  be 
the  Duke  du  Maine.  These  two  infants,  whose 
birth  is  still  a  mystery,  need  an  intelligent,  devoted, 
discreet  woman  to  bring  them.  up.  Madame  de 
Montespan  thinks  of  Madame  Scarron.  The  wife 
of  Colbert,  the  great  minister,  had  willingly  under¬ 
taken  charge  of  the  son  and  daughter  of  Louis  XIV. 
and  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière.  Madame  Scarron, 
solicited  by  the  King  himself,  accepts  the  offer  made 
her  in  1670.  She  becomes  the  governess,  the  second 
mother,  of  the  children  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Madame 
de  Montespan.  To  conceal  their  existence  they  are 


MADAME  DE  MAIN  TEN  ON  IN  1682 


95 


each  placed  separately,  with  a  nurse,  in  a  little  house 
outside  of  Paris.  Leaving  her  friends,  giving  up 
society,  risking  the  loss  of  lier  reputation  by  a  sin¬ 
gular  mystery,  Madame  Scarron  courageously  sacri¬ 
fices  herself  to  her  new  rôle.  The  family  of  adultery 
goes  on  increasing.  The  birth  of  the  Count  de 
Vexin  comes  in  1672,  of  Mademoiselle  de  Nantes 
(the  future  Duchess  de  Bourbon)  in  1673,  of  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  Tours  in  1674.  According  to  Madame 
de  Caylus,  Madame  Scarron  is  sent  for  each  time. 
She  hides  the  baby  under  her  scarf  and  herself  under 
a  mask  and  takes  a  cab  to  Paris,  dreading  lest  the 
infant  may  begin  to  cry  while  on  the  road.  In  1672 
she  established  herself  in  a  large  isolated  house  not 
far  from  Vaugirard.  Madame  de  Coulanges  writes 
at  this  time  to  Madame  de  Sévigné  :  “  As  for  Ma¬ 
dame  Scarron,  her  life  is  an  astonishing  sort  of 
thing.  Without  exception  not  a  soul  has  inter¬ 
course  with  her.”  Louis  XIV.,  prejudiced  at  first 
against  the  governess,  whom  he  characterized  as  a 
blue-stocking,  begins  to  recognize  her  good  quali¬ 
ties.  Her  pension  is  increased  from  two  thousand  to 
six  thousand  livres. 

On  December  20,  1673,  the  legitimation  of  the 
Duke  du  Maine,  the  Count  de  Vexin,  and  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  Tours  is  registered.  The  following  j^ear 
these  three  children  are  domiciled  at  Versailles  with 
Madame  Scarron.  She  writes  to  her  brother,  July 
25,  1674:  “The  life  people  lead  here  is  very  dissi¬ 
pated  and  the  days  pass  quickly.  All  my  little 


96 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Princes  are  established  here,  and  I  think  forever. 
That,  like  everything  else,  has  its  good  and  had 
side.” 

As  soon  as  she  set  foot  at  court,  Madame  Scarron 
laid  down  a  programme  for  herself.  “  There  is  noth¬ 
ing  cleverer  than  irreproachable  conduct,”  she  says. 
At  first  Madame  de  Montespan  eongratulates  herself 
on  having  near  her  a  pei-son  so  amiable,  so  witty, 
and  such  good  company.  But  this  fancy  does  not 
last  long.  The  haughty  favorite  soon  begins  to  tor¬ 
ment  the  modest  governess.  Spats,  reconciliations, 
little  tiffs,  begin.  Madame  Scarron  does  not  attack; 
she  defends  herself.  Louis  XIV.  does  her  justice 
and  recognizes  her  rare  merits.  At  the  close  of  the 
year  1674  he  gives  her  the  money  necessary  to  pur¬ 
chase  the  estate  of  Maintenon,  fourteen  leagues  from 
Paris,  ten  from  Versailles,  and  four  from  Chartres. 
The  governess  of  the  legitimated  children  is  thence¬ 
forth  styled  the  Marquise  de  Maintenon. 

Were  there  on  her  side  the  skilfully  devised 
Machiavelian  calculations,  the  subtle  hypocrisies, 
that  her  detractors  have  supposed?  We  do  not 
believe  it.  Is  it  her  fault  if  her  interests  are  at  one 
with  her  duties,  if  piety,  which  to  her  is  an  end  in 
itself,  is  to  become  a  means  in  consequence  of  unfore¬ 
seen  circumstances?  At  bottom,  what  does  she 
desire  above  all  things?  To  convert  Louis  XIV. 
Does  she  wish  the  adulterous  eommerce  of  the  sov¬ 
ereign  and  Madame  de  Montespan  to  cease?  Yes. 
Does  she  wish  to  become  the  King’s  mistress?  No. 


MADAME  DE  MAIN  TEN  ON  IN  16S2 


97 


Wheu  Louis  XIV.,  tired  of  the  pride  and  violence 
of  the  favorite,  departs  from  her,  does  Madame  de 
Maintenon  try  to  monopolize  him  for  herself?  Not 
at  all.  It  is  Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges  who  will 
pick  up  the  left-hand  sceptre.  And  when  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  Fontanges  dies,  will  Madame  de  Maintenon 
have  the  notion  of  replacing  her?  In  no  wise.  She 
will  have  but  one  object:  to  bring  back  the  King  to 
the  Queen,  and  this  object  she  will  attain. 

And  yet  people  will  say,  she  is  the  friend  of 
Madame  de  Montespan,  she  is  under  obligations  to 
her.  That  is  true;  but  never,  even  at  the  time 
when  she  had  most  need  of  her  benefactress,  has  she 
said  a  word  of  approbation,  of  encouragement,  for 
adultery.  Never  has  she  sacrificed  her  principles. 
Tlie  fact  of  interesting  oneself  in  natural  children, 
of  bringing  them  up  in  a  Christian  manner,  of  pity¬ 
ing  and  loving  them,  is  no  more  a  laudation  of  their 
origin  than  the  establishment  of  a  foundling  asylum 
is  the  consecration  of  adultery  or  concubinage.  Is 
Madame  de  Maintenon  reproached  for  her  amiability, 
her  attentions  to  Madame  de  Montespan?  But  who 
was  there  at  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.  who  did  not 
show  respect  to  the  favorite  ?  Did  not  the  Queen 
herself  treat  her  kindly  and  accept  her  first  as  her 
lady  of  the  palace  and  afterwards  as  superintendent 
of  her  household? 

There  are  also  many  who  accuse  Madame  de  Main¬ 
tenon  of  hypocrisy  in  her  inclination  to  withdraw, 
and  the  promises  she  made  herself  to  leave  the  court 


98 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


as  soon  as  possible.  But  why  forget  that  ambition, 
like  love,  has  its  alternations  of  ardor  and  lassitude, 
of  passion  and  satiety?  Do  not  the  fruits  one  has 
most  desired  often  lose  their  savor  the  moment  they 
are  possessed  ?  And  is  not  reality  the  grave  of  hope  ? 
jMadame  de  Maintenon  one  day  said  she  would  be  an 
enigma  to  posterity.  Nevertheless  she  will  only  be 
an  enigma  to  herself.  Ambitious  and  undeceived, 
eager  for  honors  whose  nothingness  she  will  be  sen¬ 
sible  of,  there  will  be  no  hypocrisy  in  her  soul,  but 
plenty  of  contradictions. 

The  great  defect  of  historians  is  their  desire  to 
find  characters  all  of  a  piece.  In  nearly  all  natures 
there  is  both  good  and  evil,  truth  and  falsehood, 
strength  and  weakness.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
does  not  escape  this  common  law.  She  merits 
neither  the  odious  satires  of  her  adversaries  nor  the 
exaggerated  praises  of  her  admirers.  But  we  do  not 
hesitate  to  declare,  for  our  own  part,  that  when  it  is 
a  question  of  judging  this  celebrated  woman,  the 
balance  ought,  in  our  opinion,  to  lean  to  the  side  of 
eulogy  rather  than  to  that  of  criticism. 

Madame  de  Maintenon’s  detractors  reckon  it  a 
crime  in  her  to  have  injured  Madame  de  Montespan 
by  the  pious  counsels  she  gave  to  Louis  XIV. 
W  ould  they  prefer  then  that  she  should  have  made 
herself  the  pander  of  adultery,  and  employed  her 
intelligence  in  reconciling  the  King  with  his  mis¬ 
tress  ?  Do  they  prefer  the  part  of  a  go-between  to 
that  of  a  moralize!-?  She  is  engaged  to  educate  the 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  IN  1682 


99 


children  of  Madame  de  Montespan,  but  certainly  not 
to  favorize  her  amours.  And  yet  she  is  very  well 
aware  of  the  malevolence,  tlie  calumnies,  to  whicli 
her  attitude  may  give  rise.  One  of  the  Entretiens  de 
Saint-Cyr  proves  this.  “So  there  we  were,  irre¬ 
trievably  embroiled,”  she  says,  “without  having  had 
any  intention  of  breaking  off,  and  even  without  hav¬ 
ing  formally  done  so.  It  certainly  was  not  my  fault, 
and  yet  if  either  of  us  had  any  reason  to  complain  it 
was  she,  for  she  could  say  with  truth:  ‘I  was  the 
cause  of  her  elevation,  I  gained  her  the  King’s 
acquaintance  and  approval;  she  is  becoming  the 
favorite  and  I  am  driven  away.’  It  is  true  I  had 
many  things  to  say  in  return.  For  was  I  wrong  in 
accepting  the  King’s  friendship  on  the  conditions  I 
had  laid  down?  Was  I  wrong  in  having  given  him 
good  advice?  Did  not  Madame  de  Montespan  know 
that  I  would  neglect  no  means  of  breaking  off  her 
guilty  commerce?” 

A  curious  thing  is  the  respective  situations  of 
these  two  women,  both  so  witty  and  intelligent,  of 
whom  Louis  XIV.  said  :  “  I  had  more  trouble  to 
make  peace  between  them  than  to  re-establish  it  in 
Turkey.”  Madame  de  Maintenon  wrote,  June  14, 
1679:  “Madame  de  Montespan  is  absolutely  deter¬ 
mined  to  believe  that  I  am  trying  to  be  the  King’s 
mistress.  ‘But,’  said  I  to  her,  ‘are  there  three  of  us 
then?’ — ‘Yes,’  she  answered  me,  ‘I  in  name,  that 
girl  [Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges]  in  fact,  and  you 
in  lieart.  ’  I  replied  that  she  jiaid  too  grcîat  heed  to 


100 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


her  resentment.  She  answered  that  she  knew  my 
artilices  and  was  only  sorry  that  she  had  not  given 
lieed  to  her  presentiments.  She  reproached  me  with 
the  presents  she  had  given  me  and  with  those  of  the 
King,  and  said  she  had  nourished  me  and  I  was 
stilling  her.  Do  you  understand  the  situation  ?  It 
is  a  curious  thing  that  we  cannot  live  together,  and 
yet  cannot  separate.  I  love  her  and  can  never  per¬ 
suade  myself  that  she  hates  me.”  Again  Madame 
de  Maintenon  writes,  in  1680:  “To-day  Madame  de 
Montespan  and  I  took  a  walk  together  arm  in  arm 
and  laughing  a  good  deal  ;  we  are  on  none  the  better 
terms  for  that.” 

Sovereigns  or  private  persons,  princesses  or  civil¬ 
ians’  wives,  great  ladies  or  women  of  the  people, 
how  much  they  resemble  each  other!  Had  not  La 
Bruyère  good  reason  to  say:  “At  court  and  in  the 
city  there  are  the  same  passions,  the  same  frailties, 
the  same  pettiness,  the  same  caprices.  ...  If  he  has 
good  eyes,  one  may  easily  see  the  little  town,  the 
rue  Saint-Denis,  transported  as  it  were  to  Ver¬ 
sailles  and  Fontainebleau.” 

Madame  de  Montespan,  even  while  irritated  with 
the  clever  governess,  must,  after  all,  have  recognized 
that  she  was  undergoing  a  sort  of  retributive  pun¬ 
ishment.  Had  she  not  supplanted  her  own  friend. 
Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière?  Had  she  not  shame¬ 
fully  deceived  Queen  Marie  Thérèse?  Does  not 
her  conscience  tell  her  that  her  chastisement  is 
deserved?  She  is  vanquished.  Let  her  resign  her- 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  IN  1682 


101 


self  !  Doubtless  it  is  painful  for  this  haughty  Morte- 
mart,  who  has  ahvays  held  her  own  with  the  great 
King,  who  has  looked  the  demigod  in  the  face,  to 
humble  herself  before  a  woman  she  had  rescued 
from  poverty,  before  a  governess  who  is  seven  years 
older  than  herself.  But  what  can  be  done  about  it? 

Thenceforward  Madame  de  Maiutenon’s  position 
is  beyond  attack.  The  politic  woman  has  no  longer 
any  need  to  make  a  stepping-stone  of  the  cradle  of 
the  legitimated.  It  is  not  she  who  brings  up  the 
last  two  children  of  Madame  de  Montespan  and 
Louis  XIV.  (the  future  Duchess  of  Orleans  and  the 
Count  de  Toulouse).  She  has  now  her  own  settled 
place  at  court.  She  is  sought  for  and  flattered. 
When  she  spends  a  few  days  at  her  chateau  of 
Maintenon,  the  greatest  personages  go  there  to  pay 
their  homage.  Madame  de  Sévigné  writes  concern¬ 
ing  her,  Jul}^  17,  1680:  “People  no  longer  approach 
the  lady  without  fear  and  respect,  and  the  ministers 
pay  court  to  her  like  the  rest.  .  .  .  She  is  intro¬ 
ducing  the  King  to  an  entirely  new  region  ;  I  mean 
the  commerce  of  friendship  and  conversation,  with¬ 
out  chicanery  and  without  constraint;  he  appears 
charmed  with  it.” 

At  the  age  of  ten  years  the  little  Duke  du  Maine, 
Madame  de  Maintenon ’s  cherished  pupil,  had  just 
passed  out  of  the  hands  of  men.  Louis  XIV.  re¬ 
warded  the  care  she  had  bestowed  on  this  child  by 
appointing  her  lady  of  the  bedchamber  to  the  Dau- 
phiness.  When  this  princess  arrives  in  France  she 


102 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


is  met  at  Sclilestadt  by  Bossuet  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon.  “If,”  writes  Madame  de  Sévigné,  “Ma¬ 
dame  the  Dauphiness  fancies  that  all  the  men  and 
women  have  as  much  wit  as  these  specimens,  she  will 
be  greatly  deceived;  truly,  it  is  a  great  advantage 
to  be  of  the  first  order.  ”  ^  Madame  de  Maintenon 
possesses  the  boon  she  had  so  much  desired,  consid¬ 
eration.  The  most  eminent  prelates  hold  her  in  high 
esteem.  The  devout  party  regard  her  as  an  oracle. 
It  is  she  who  is  laboring  at  the  King’s  conversion, 
she  who  is  bringing  him  back  to  the  Queen,  she 
who,  with  insinuating  and  gentle  eloquence,  pleads 
at  court  the  cause  of  morality  and  religion. 


1  Letter  of  Fet).  14,  1680. 


VI 


THE  BAVARIAN  DAUPHINESS 

At  the  side  of  those  imperious  types  which 
impose  themselves  on  the  attention  of  poster¬ 
ity,  there  is  a  place  in  history  for  more  tranquil, 
gentler,  and  more  meditative  figures  who,  in  life, 
remained  in  the  shade,  in  silence,  and  who  may  be 
said  to  retain  a  sort  of  modesty  and  reserve  even 
beyond  the  tomb.  Princesses  are  met  with  whom 
the  tumult  of  the  world,  the  éclat  of  power,  the 
splendor  of  luxury,  could  not  detach  from  their 
native  melancholy;  who  have  been  humble  and  timid 
in  the  midst  of  grandeurs;  who  have  made  a  soli¬ 
tude  for  themselves,  and  who,  to  use  Bossuet’s  ex¬ 
pression,  have  found  in  their  oratories,  spite  of  all 
the  agitations  of  the  court,  the  Carmel  of  Elias,  the 
desert  of  John,  the  mountain  which  so  often  wit¬ 
nessed  the  lamentations  of  Jesus. 

There  is  a  blending  of  benevolence  and  sadness, 
of  tenderness  and  chagrin,  of  compassion  and  kind¬ 
ness,  in  the  smile  of  these  women.  They  seem  to 
have  occupied  the  highest  situations  only  to  in¬ 
spire  us  with  philosophic  reflections  and  Christian 

103 


104 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


thoughts,  to  prove  to  us  by  their  example  that  hap¬ 
piness  does  not  dwell  in  palaces,  that  external  things 
do  not  impart  real  joys,  that  “  grandeur  is  a  dream, 
youth  a  flower  that  fades,  health  but  a  deceptive 
name.”^  We  do  not  sufficiently  contemplate  these 
plaintive,  pale,  and  melancholy  apparitions  of  his¬ 
tory.  But  if  one  takes  pains  to  study  them  seriously, 
he  soon  becomes  attached  to  them,  he  prefers  these 
Christian  types  to  the  visages  of  proud  and  sensual 
women  which  reflect  all  the  passions  of  paganism. 
One  is  pleased  with  half  tints  after  too  glaring  colors  ; 
noise  makes  silence  beloved,  and  the  eye,  wearied 
by  the  rays  of  a  too  vivid  flame,  finds  repose  in 
softer  lustre. 

Among  the  number  of  these  wise  and  prudent 
women  whose  career  is  not  fruitful  in  dramatic 
catastrophes,  but  is  none  the  less  full  of  useful  les¬ 
sons,  must  be  placed  Marie  Anne  Christine  Victoire, 
daughter  of  the  Elector  Ferdinand,  Duke  of  Bavaria, 
and  Dauphiness  of  France.  The  life  of  this  Prin¬ 
cess,  born  in  1660,  married  in  1680  to  the  son  of 
Louis  XIV.,  died  at  Versailles  in  1690,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-nine,  may  be  summed  up  in  one  word: 
melancholy.  She  was  one  of  those  women,  disgusted 
with  earth  and  aspiring  to  heaven,  of  whom  Bossuet 
might  have  said,  as  he  did  of  the  Queen:  “The 
earth,  her  origin  and  sepulchre,  is  not  yet  low 
enough  to  receive  her;  she  would  like  to  disappear 


1  Bossuet,  Oraison  funèbre  de  la  reine  Marie-Thérèse. 


THE  BAVABIAN  DAUPHINESS 


105 


altogether  before  the  majesty  of  the  King  of  kings.” 
Her  education  had  been  austere.  The  court  of 
Munich  resembled  a  convent.  “People  rose  there 
at  six  o’clock  every  morning,  heard  Mass  at  nine, 
dined  at  ten,  were  present  every  day  at  Vespers,  and 
by  six  in  the  evening  there  was  no  one  there,  that 
being  the  hour  when  they  took  their  supper  in  order 
to  go  to  bed  at  seven.”  ^ 

Far  from  being  dazzled  by  her  new  fortune,  the 
young  Princess  did  not  leave  the  pious  and  patri¬ 
archal  court  where  she  passed  her  childhood  without 
profound  regret.  She  produced  a  good  impression 
in  her  new  home  as  soon  as  she  made  her  appear¬ 
ance.  She  was  not  beautiful,  but  her  grace,  her* 
manners,  her  natural  dignity,  and  still  more,  her 
merit,  her  learning,  and  her  kindness  gave  her  charm. 
One  of  the  persons  sent  by  Louis  XIV.  to  meet  her 
wrote  to  the  King  :  “  Madame  the  Dauphiness  is  not 
pretty.  Sire  ;  but  pass  over  the  first  glance  and  you 
will  be  very  well  content  with  her.”  She  received 
Bossuet,  who  had  gone  to  meet  her  at  Schlestadt,  with 
perfect  courtesy.  “  I  take  an  interest  in  all  you 
have  taught  M.  the  Dauphin,”  she  said  to  him;  “do 
not,  I  beg  you,  refuse  to  give  me  your  instructions 
also,  and  be  assured  that  I  will  endeavor  to  profit  by 
them.” 

The  great  bishop  was  struck  by  the  knowledge  of 
the  Princess.  She  had  an  accurate  acquaintance 


1  Mémoires  de  Coulanges, 


106 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Avitli  all  tlie  languages  spoken  in  Europe,  and  even 
with  the  language  of  the  Church,  which  had  been 
taucht  her  in  childhoodd  Bossuet  was  sincere  when 
he  said  of  her,  three  years  later:  “We  admired  her 
as  soon  as  she  appeared,  and  the  King  has  confirmed 
our  judgment.”^  Appointed  First  Almoner  to  the 
Dauphiness,  he  accompanied  her  from  Schlestadt  to 
Versailles.  During  the  journey  a  ceremony  was 
performed  which  strongly  contrasted  with  the  trans¬ 
ports  of  joy  the  Princess  had  encountered  on  her 
way  ever  since  entering  France.  On  Wednesday, 
March  6,  1680,  Bossuet  put  the  ashes  on  her  fore¬ 
head  in  the  seignorial  chapel  of  the  chateau  of 
Brignicourt-sur-Saulx.  “Woman,”  said  he,  “re¬ 
member  that  thou  wert  taken  from  the  dust  and  must 
one  day  return  to  it.”  Alas!  the  prediction  was 
accomplished  ten  years  later,  and  the  Princess, 
beside  whose  deathbed  Bossuet  stood,  reminded  him 
of  the  solemn  words  of  that  Ash  Wednesday.® 

Louis  XIV.  gave  his  daughter-in-law  the  most 
friendly  and  courteous  reception.  She  had  Madame 
the  Duchess  de  Richelieu  for  lady  of  honor,  Madame 
de  Maintenon  for  second  lady  of  the  bedchamber, 
and  Mesdemoiselles  de  Laval,  de  Biron,  de  Gontaut, 
de  Tonnesse,  de  Jarnac,  de  Rambures,  as  maids  of 


1  Pierre  de  La  Broue,  Bishop  of  Mirepoix,  Oraison  funèbre  de  la 
Dauphine. 

2  Bossuet,  Oraison  funèbre  de  la  reine  Marie- Thérèse. 

8  See  the  learned  and  remarkable  work  of  M.  Ploquet  :  Bossuet 
précepteur  du  Dauphin. 


THE  BAVARIAN  BAUPIIINESS 


107 


honor.  The  King  came  after  dinner  to  spend  sev¬ 
eral  hours  in  the  room  of  the  Princess,  where  he 
found  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  to  this  visit  he 
devoted  the  time  he  had  been  accustomed  to  pass 
with  Madame  de  Montespan. 

The  early  years  of  the  marriage  of  the  Dauphiness 
were  tranquil.  Her  husband,  who  was  but  a  year 
older  than  she,  showed  at  this  time  a  sincere  attach¬ 
ment  for  her.  The  birth  of  their  son,  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  caused  transports  of  joy  not  only  at  court 
but  throughout  France.  In  the  night  of  August 
5-6,  1682,  when  the  time  of  her  delivery  drew  nigh, 
Louis  XIV.  had  a  mattress  carried  into  the  chamber 
of  the  Dauphiness,  where  he  spent  the  night  with 
the  Queen.  He  encouraged  his  daughter-in-law  with 
affectionate  words.  Several  times  he  supported  her 
while  she  walked  up  and  down  in  the  chamber, 
telling  her  he  would  be  very  well  satisfied  if  she  had 
a  daughter,  providing  she  suffered  less  and  were 
promptly  delivered.  All  the  places  and  avenues  of 
Versailles  were  made  as  light  as  day  by  a  multitude 
of  lanterns  and  torches  carried  by  persons  awaiting 
the  happy  event.  The  next  day,  when  the  Princess 
had  brought  a  son  ^  into  the  world,  the  joy  bordered 
on  delirium.  Everybody  took  the  liberty  of  embrac¬ 
ing  the  King.2  Spinola  bit  his  finger  in  the  warmth 

1  The  Dauphiness  was  brought  to  bed  in  the  Superintendent’s 
pavilion,  situated  at  the  extremity  of  the  south  wing,  opposite  the 
Swiss  lake. 

2  Abbé  de  Choisy,  Mémoires  pour  servir  à  Thistoire  de  Louis 
XIV. 


108 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


of  his  enthusiasm,  and  hearing  him  cry  out:  “Sire,” 
said  he,  “I  ask  Your  Majesty’s  pardon;  hut  if  I  had 
not  bitten  you,  you  would  not  have  paid  any  atten¬ 
tion  to  me.”  There  were  dances,  illuminations, 
transports,  everywhere.  The  people  who  were  mak¬ 
ing  bonfires  burned  even  the  flooring  intended  for 
the  grand  gallery.  “Let  them  alone,”  said  Louis 
XIV.,  smiling;  “we  will  have  other  flooring.”  He 
showed  the  newly  horn  to  the  crowd,  and  the  air 
resounded  with  enthusiastic  acclamations. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  wrote  to  her  friend,  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Saint-Géran,  the  next  day,  August  7,  1682: 
“The  King  has  made  a  very  fine  present  to  Madame 
the  Dauphiness  ;  he  has  had  the  little  prince  in  his 
arms  for  a  moment.  He  congratulated  Monseigneur 
like  a  friend  ;  he  gave  the  first  tidings  to  the  Queen  ; 
in  fine,  everybody  says  he  is  adorable  ;  Madame  de 
Montespan  is  withering  at  our  joy.  We  are  living 
with  every  appearance  of  sincere  friendship.  Some 
people  say  I  want  to  put  myself  in  her  place,  not 
knowing  either  my  aversion  for  that  sort  of  com¬ 
merce  nor  the  aversion  I  wish  to  inspire  in  the  King 
for  it.  Some  think  that  I  wish  to  bring  her  back  to 
God.  There  is  a  better  made  heart  for  which  I  have 
greater  hopes.” 

This  heart,  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  was  daily  inclin¬ 
ing  more  toward  religion.  The  time  of  scandals  was 
over.  Every  cloud  had  disappeared  from  the  con¬ 
jugal  sky  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Marie  Thérèse.  The 
quarrels  of  Madame  de  Montespan  and  Madame  de 


THE  BAVARIAN  BAUrillNESS 


109 


Maintenon  were  appeased.  These  two  ladies  no 
longer  visited  each  other.  But  whenever  they  met 
elsewhere  they  spoke  and  even  held  conversations  so 
lively  and  cordial  in  appearance  that  any  one  who 
had  seen  them  and  was  not  conversant  with  court 
intrigues  would  have  thought  them  the  best  friends 
in  the  world. ^  Speaking  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
the  Queen  said  gratefully:  “The  King  has  never 
treated  me  with  so  much  tenderness  as  since  he  lis' 
tened  to  her.”  The  year  1683  promised  to  be  a  happy 
one  for  the  saintly  and  gentle  companion  of  Louis 
XIV.  But  death  was  approaching  rapidly.  A 
terrible  malady  was  about  to  carry  off  the  Queen, 
who  was  only  forty-five  j^ears  old. 

This  good  and  virtuous  princess  of  whom  Bossuet 
has  said:  “She  goes  with  the  Lamb,  for  she  is 
worthy”;  this  Queen  who  wore  the  lilied  mantle  as 
if  it  were  haircloth;  this  woman  who  was  one  of 
those  elect  souls  of  whom  the  Apostle  Saint  John 
says  :  “  They  are  without  spot  before  the  throne  of 
God,  sine  maculâ  enim  sunt  ante  thronum  Dei  ”  ;  this 
pious  Marie  Thérèse  died,  as  she  had  lived,  with 
angelic  sweetness.  Louis  XIV.,  who  had  caused 
her  so  many  troubles,  mourned  for  her  sincerely. 
“What!”  he  cried,  “there  is  no  more  a  Queen  in 
France.  What!  I  am  a  widower;  I  could  never 
have  believed  it,  and  yet  I  am  so,  and  of  the  most 
meritorious  princess.  .  .  .  This  is  the  first  pain 
she  has  ever  given  me.” 


'  Souvenirs  de  Iladame  de  Caylus. 


110 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Louis  XIV.,  so  often  accused  of  coldness  and 
egotism,  liad  on  the  contrary  a  great  fund  of  kind¬ 
ness.  He  had  been  too  affectionate  a  son  to  be  an 
absolutely  bad  husband.  He  wrote  on  the  subject  of 
the  death  of  Anne  of  Austria,  in  the  Memoirs 
intended  for  the  Dauphin:  “However  great  might 
be  the  courage  on  which  I  wished  to  pique  myself, 
it  was  impossible  that  a  son  bound  by  the  ties  of 
nature  could  see  his  mother  die  without  excessive 
grief,  since  even  those  toward  whom  she  had  acted 
as  an  enemy  could  not  avoid  regretting  her,  and 
avowing  that  there  had  never  been  a  more  sincere 
piety,  a  more  intrepid  firmness,  more  generous  a 
bounty.  The  vigor  with  which  this  princess  had 
maintained  my  dignity  when  I  could  not  myself  de¬ 
fend  it,  was  the  most  important  and  useful  service 
that  could  ever  be  rendered  me.  .  .  .  My  respect  for 
her  was  not  one  of  those  constrained  duties  which  are 
performed  for  the  sake  of  decorum.  The  habit  I  had 
formed  of  having  ordinarily  the  same  dwelling  and 
the  same  table  with  her,  the  assiduity  with  which  I 
was  seen  to  visit  her  several  times  every  day,  no 
matter  how  pressing  my  affairs  might  be,  were  not 
a  law  I  had  imposed  on  myself  for  reasons  of  State, 
but  a  sign  of  the  pleasure  I  took  in  her  company.” 

No;  whatever  people  may  say,  the  man  who  wrote 
these  lines  was  not  wanting  in  heart.  No  one  has 
felt  more  keenly  that  incomparable  grief,  that  rend¬ 
ing  which  tears  from  you  more  than  half  your  soul  : 
the  loss  of  a  mother.  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier, 


THE  BAVABIAN  DAUPIIINESS 


111 


an  ocular  witness  of  the  death  of  Anne  of  Austria, 
says  that  at  the  moment  when  she  yielded  her  last 
breath,  Louis  XIV.  “was  stifling;  they  threw  water 
on  him;  he  was  suffocating.”  All  night  long  he 
shed  torrents  of  tears. 

The  death  of  Queen  Marie  Thérèse  did  not  eause 
him  such  painful  anguish,  but  still  he  manifested 
a  keen  sensibility  on  this  occasion.  “The  court,” 
says  Madame  de  Caylus,  “  was  pained  by  his  grief. 
That  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  which  I  observed 
very  closely,  seemed  to  me  sincere  and  founded  upon 
esteem  and  gratitude.  I  would  not  say  as  much  for 
the  tears  of  Madame  de  Montespan,  whom  I  remember 
to  have  seen  entering  Madame  de  Maintenon ’s  apart¬ 
ments,  but  I  cannot  say  why  or  wherefore.  All  that 
I  know  is  that  she  wept  a  good  deal  and  that  all  her 
actions  seemed  to  show  a  trouble  founded  on  that  of 
her  mind,  and  perhaps  on  the  fear  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  her  husband.  ” 

Marie  Thérèse  died  July  30,  1683,  at  the  château 
of  Versailles,  in  the  bedchamber  which  has  a  view 
of  the  Orangery  and  also  of  the  Swiss  lake,  and  of 
which  we  have  already  had  several  occasions  to 
speak. ^  After  the  Queen’s  death  this  room  was 
occupied  by  the  Dauphiness,  who,  from  the  hierarchi¬ 
cal  point  of  view,  had  become  the  principal  woman 
of  the  court.  The  King  wished  to  make  the  salon 
of  his  daughter-in-law  the  most  brilliant  centre  in 


1  Room  No.  115  of  the  Notice  du  Muxée  de  Versailles. 


112 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


France.  He  sometimes  Avent  to  see  her,  taking  Avith  1 
him  his  rarest  jeAAmls  and  stuffs  for  her  to  select  from  ;  j 
the  rest  Avere  diAuded  into  lots  Avhich  the  maids  of  | 

honor  and  ladies  Avho  had  been  presented  clreAV  lots  t 

for,  or  perhaps  had  the  honor  of  playing  for  with 
her,  and  even  Avith  the  King.  While  hoca  Avas  in 
fashion,  and  before  the  King  liad  Avisely  interdicted 
so  dangerous  a  game,  he  played  it  in  the  apartments 
of  Madame  the  Dauphiness  ;  but  when  he  lost  he  i 
paid  as  many  louis  as  the  others  had  staked  small 
pieces.^ 

However,  in  spite  of  all  the  court  amusements,  the 
Dauphiness  yielded  to  an  invincible  sadness.  She 
Avas  stifling  in  this  atmosphere  of  intrigues,  agita¬ 
tions,  and  tumultuous  pleasures.  Disgusted  Avith 
that  “region  where  joys  are  visible  hut  false,  and 
Avhose  vexations  hidden  but  real,”^  where  “eagerness 
for  the  spectacles,  the  éclat,  and  the  applause  at  the 
theatres  of  Molière  and  Harlequin,  for  banquets, 
hunts,  ballets,  and  tourneys  conceals  so  many  anxie¬ 
ties  and  fears,”  she  found  like  Bruyère  that  “a 
healthy  mind  acquires  at  court  a  taste  for  solitude 
and  retreat.”  In  spite  of  all  his  obliging  atten¬ 
tions,  Louis  XIV.  could  not  succeed  in  making 
her  love  the  world  nor  induce  her  to  hold  court 
receptions.  She  passed  her  life  sadly  in  the  small 
rooms  contiguous  to  her  Versailles  apartments  with 


1  Souvenirs  de  Madame  de  Caylus. 

2  La  Bruyère,  Be  la  Cour. 


THE  BAVABIAN  DAUPHINESS 


113 


a  German  woman  whom  she  liked,  and  who  was 
called  La  Bessola,  as  her  sole  companion. 

This  chambermaid,  whom  the  Princess  Palatine 
represents  under  an  odious  aspect,  had  nothing  bad 
about  her,  according  to  Madame  de  Caylus.  Never¬ 
theless,  she  was  accused  of  keeping  the  princess 
sequestrated,  as  one  might  say,  and  preventing  her 
from  responding  to  the  King’s  gracious  attentions. 
The  Dauphin,  tired  of  the  perpetual  tête-à-tête  of  his 
wife  and  La  Bessola,  who  always  talked  in  German, 
a  language  he  was  unacquainted  with,  sought  other 
society.  He  was  smitten  with  Mademoiselle  de 
Rambures,  one  of  his  wife’s  maids  of  honor,  and  he 
fell  into  the  habit  of  spending  most  of  his  time  at 
the  house  of  his  natural  sister,  the  beautiful  and 
witty  Princess  de  Conti,  the  daughter  of  Louis  XIV. 
and  Mademoiselle  de  La  Valliere. 

The  Dauphiness  did  not  even  try  to  retain  a  heart 
which  was  escaping  from  her.  Either  through 
timidity  or  lack  of  self-confidence,  she  accepted  her 
lot  with  painful  resignation,  while  suffering  bitterly 
on  account  of  it.  Hopeless  of  consoling  her,  Louis 
XIV.  left  her  to  the  solitude  from  which  nothing 
could  induce  her  to  emerge,  and  she  ended  by  being 
deserted  by  all  the  court  as  well  as  by  the  King. 
Madame  de  Caylus  remarks  with  much  justice  : 
“  Perhaps  the  good  qualities  of  the  Princess  contrib¬ 
uted  to  her  isolation.  The  enemy  of  scandal  and 
mockery,  she  could  neither  endure  nor  comprehend 
the  raillery  and  malignant  style  of  the  court,  all  the 


114 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


less  because  she  did  not  understand  its  subtleties.” 
Madame  de  Cay  lus  adds  this  judicious  observation: 
“I  have  seen  foreigners,  even  those  whose  spirit 
seemed  most  friendly  toward  French  manners,  some¬ 
times  disconcerted  by  our  continual  irony.” 

A  painting  by  Delutel,  after  Mignard,^  now  hung 
in  the  Hall  of  the  Queen’s  Guards,  represents  the 
Danphiness  surrounded  by  her  husband  and  her 
three  sons.  The  Dauphin,  wearing  a  red  velvet  coat, 
is  sitting  near  a  table,  caressing  a  dog.  The  Prin¬ 
cess  is  at  the  other  side  of  the  table,  with  the  little 
Duke  of  Berry  2  on  her  lap.  In  front  of  her  the 
Duke  of  Anjou, 3  in  a  blue  robe,  is  sitting  on  a  cush¬ 
ion  ;  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  in  a  red  robe  and  wear¬ 
ing  the  order  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  standing  up  and 
holding  a  lance.  In  the  air  two  Loves  support  a 
rich  drapery  with  one  hand  and  scatter  flowers  with 
the  other.  This  painting  seems  to  breathe  tran¬ 
quillity.  A  charming  quiet  and  satisfaction  marks 
the  aspect  of  the  Dauphiness.  But  the  picture  is 
more  allegorical  than  real,  and  does  not  show  the 
Princess  as  she  actually  was.  Her  vexations,  her 
sufferings,  her  gloomy  presentiments,  do  not  appear 
in  it.  This  is  not  the  exact  image  of  the  woman 
about  whom  Madame  de  La  Fayette  says  in  her 
Memoirs:  “This  poor  Princess  sees  nothing  but 


1  No.  2116  of  the  Notice  du  Musée  de  Versailles. 

*  The  Duke  of  Berry,  horn  August  31,  1686. 

®  The  Duke  of  Anjou  (the  future  Philip  V.  of  Spain),  horn 
December  19,  1683. 


TUE  BAVARIAN  DAUPUINESS 


115 


the  worst  for  herself  and  takes  no  part  whatever  in 
festivities.  She  has  very  bad  health  and  a  sad  dis¬ 
position  which,  added  to  the  little  consideration  she 
enjoys,  deprives  her  of  the  pleasure  which  any  one 
except  the  Princess  of  Bavaria  would  feel  in  arriv¬ 
ing  at  almost  the  first  place  in  the  world.” 

Far  from  rejoicing  at  her  lofty  fortune,  she  longed 
for  Germany  where  her  childhood  had  passed  so 
modestly,  and  said  to  another  German  woman, 
Madame  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  (the  Princess  Pala¬ 
tine):  “We  are  both  of  us  very  unhappy,  but  the 
difference  between  us  is  that  you  tried  to  avoid  it  as 
much  as  you  could,  while  I  desired  with  all  my  might 
to  come  here;  therefore  I  have  deserved  my  unhap¬ 
piness  more  than  you.”  She  thought  like  Massillon 
that  “grandeur  is  a  weight  which  wearies,”  “that 
nothing  which  must  pass  away  can  be  great;  it  is 
but  a  theatrical  decoration;  death  closes  the  scene 
and  the  representation;  eacli  lays  aside  the  pomps 
belonging  to  his  character  and  his  fictitious  titles, 
and  both  sovereign  and  slave  are  reduced  to  their 
nothingness  and  primitive  vileness.” 

The  Dauphiness  had  a  presentiment  of  her  ap¬ 
proaching  end.  People  thought  her  mad  because 
she  was  constantly  saying  that  she  felt  herself  irrev¬ 
ocably  lost.  But  the  poor  Princess,  who  well  knew 
that  her  moral  and  physical  sufferings  were  but  too 
real,  smiled  sadly  when  people  seemed  incredulous 
concerning  them.  “I  shall  have  to  die  to  justify 
myself,”  said  she.  Bossuet  has  remarked  in  his 


116 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


funeral  oration  on  Queen  Marie  Thérèse:  “Even 
innocent  souls  have  the  tears  and  the  bitterness  of 
penitence.”  Melancholy  and  piety  are  not  incom¬ 
patible  ;  no  sky  is  so  clear  as  to  have  no  clouds,  and 
Christ  Himself  has  wept. 

Short  in  duration,  long  in  suffering,  the  life  of 
the  Dauphiness  was  hidden  beneath  a  sombre  veil. 
This  young  Princess,  for  whom  Providence  had  at 
first  seemed  to  reserve  the  most  brilliant  destiny, 
was  to  die  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine,  worn  out  by 
chagrin  and  consumed  by  languor.  Convinced  that 
her  last  delivery  had  killed  her,  she  tenderly  em¬ 
braced  her  son,  the  Duke  of  Berry,  and  as  she  gave 
him  her  blessing,  she  repeated  this  line  of  Andro¬ 
mache  :  — 

“  All  1  mon  fils,  que  tes  jours  coûtent  cher  à  ta  mère  1  ”  ^ 

The  earth,  which  was  like  an  exile  to  her,  seemed  to 
her,  moreover,  unworthy  of  regrets.  She  died  “  will¬ 
ingly  and  with  calmness,”  according  to  the  expres¬ 
sion  of  her  compatriot  the  Duchess  of  Orleans.  A 
few  hours  before  breathing  her  last  she  had  said  to 
this  Princess,  her  companion  in  misfortune:  “To¬ 
day  I  shall  prove  that  I  have  not  been  mad  in  com¬ 
plaining  of  my  sufferings.” 


1  Ah  1  my  sou,  how  dear  thy  life  has  cost  thy  mother  I 


VII 


THE  MAERIAGB  OP  MADAME  DE  MAIN  TENON 
HAVE  had  an  astonishing  fortune,  but  it  is 


not  my  work.  I  am  where  you  see  me  with¬ 
out  having  desired  it,  or  hoped  for  it,  or  foreseen  it. 
I  say  this  only  to  you,  because  the  world  would  not 
believe  it.” 

Thus  Madame  de  Maintenon  expressed  herself  in 
one  of  her  conversations  with  the  Demoiselles  of 
Saint-Cyr,  and  we  believe  this  appreciation  is  exact. 

The  premature  death  of  the  Queen  was  an  event 
which  surprised  everybody.  Twenty-three  years 
before,  August  26,  1660,  she  who  then  called  herself 
Madame  Scarron  had  just  been  present  at  the  solemn 
entry  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Marie  Thérèse  into  their 
good  city  of  Paris.  She  wrote  the  next  day  to  her 
friend,  Madame  de  Villarceaux;  “I  do  not  think 
anything  so  beautiful  can  ever  have  been  seen,  and 
the  Queen  must  have  retired  last  night  very  well 
satisfied  with  the  husband  she  has  chosen.” 

He  who  should  then  have  said  to  the  wife  of  the 
burlesque  poet:  “This  husband  whom  you  admire 
so  much  will  one  day  be  your  own,”  would  certainly 


117 


118 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


have  seemed  to  her  a  strange  prophet.  The  fictions 
of  romance  are  not  nearly  so  prodigious  as  the  reali¬ 
ties  of  history,  and  when  Madame  de  Maintenon  at 
the  age  of  fifty,  saw  a  king  of  forty-seven,  and  what 
a  king!  come  to  offer  to  he  her  husband,  she  must 
have  thought  herself  the  plaything  of  a  dream.  One 
would  be  tempted  to  believe  that  she  could  only 
have  been  the  companion  of  an  aging  sovereign  who 
had  already  lost  the  greater  part  of  his  prestige. 
But  the  absolute  contrary  is  true. 

The  year  when  Louis  XIV.  espoused  Scarron’s 
widow  was  the  apogee,  the  zenith,  of  the  royal  star. 
Never  had  the  sun  of  the  great  King  been  more 
imposing,  nor  his  haughty  device:  Nee  pluribus 
impar,  more  dazzling.  It  was  the  epoch  when,  in 
face  of  his  motionless  enemies,  he  enlarged  and  for¬ 
tified  the  frontiers  of  the  realm,  conquered  Stras¬ 
bourg,  bombarded  Genoa  and  Algiers,  finished  the 
luxurious  constructions  of  his  splendid  Versailles, 
was  the  terror  of  Europe  and  the  idol  of  France. 

And  yet  Louis  XIV.  was  in  love  Avith  Madame 
de  Maintenon  while  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  not 
in  love  with  Louis  XIV.  I  She  had  veneration, 
gratitude,  devotion  for  him,  but  not  love.  There  is 
nothing  surprising  in  that.  Women,  in  fact,  are 
seldom  enamoured  of  the  men  to  whom  they  owe 
their  fortune.  In  general,  they  like  better  to  protect 
than  to  be  protected.  They  find  it  sweeter  to 
inspire  gratitude  than  to  experience  it.  What  they 
like  best  of  all  is  to  show  their  superiority,  and. 


MAEBIAGE  OF  MADAME  BE  MAINTENON  119 


precisely  because  their  sex  seems  to  be  condemned 
by  nature  to  a  dependent  situation,  they  are  happy 
when  the  rôles  are  exchanged,  when  it  is  they  who 
dominate,  protect,  oblige.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
owed  Louis  XIV.  too  much  to  be  enamoured  of  him. 

Let  us  add  that  the  age  at  which  she  married  him 
was  no  longer  that  of  love,  and  that  the  simplicity, 
the  freshness  of  ideas  and  sentiments  of  a  young 
ingénue  from  across  the  Rhine  cannot  be  expected  in 
a  woman  of  fifty.  Madame  de  Maintenon  felt  that 
the  King  would  have  been  ridiculous  if  he  had  loved 
her  as  he  did  Mademoiselle  de  La  Valliere,  and  that 
the  time  for  erotic  ecstasies  was  irrevocably  passed. 
She  justly  reflected  that  Louis  XIV.  was  faithful  to 
God  rather  than  to  her,  and  that  the  fear  of  hell  and 
the  desire  for  salvation  had  the  greatest  share  in  the 
unexpected  change  which  had  been  suddenly  pro¬ 
duced  in  the  morals  of  a  sovereign  until  then  so 
voluptuous  and  so  fickle.  In  the  Louis  XIV.  of 
1684  the  devotee  took  precedence  of  the  lover,  piety 
carried  the  day  against  passion,  and  it  was  religion 
still  more  than  tenderness,  more  even  than  habit, 
which  prevented  Madame  de  Maintenon  from  having 
rivals. 

To  sum  up,  the  King’s  sentiment  for  her  was  of 
the  most  complex  kind.  There  was  in  it  a  mingling 
of  religion  and  physical  love,  a  calculation  of  rea¬ 
son  and  an  impulse  of  the  heart,  an  aspiration  after 
the  mild  joys  of  family  life  and  romantic  inclina¬ 
tion,  a  sort  of  compact  between  French  good  sense. 


120 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


subjugated  by  tlie  wit,  tact,  and  wisdom  of  an 
eminent  woman,  and  Spanish  imagination,  allured 
by  the  notion  of  having  extricated  this  elect  woman 
from  poverty  in  order  to  make  her  almost  a  queen. 
Finally,  it  must  be  noted  that  Louis  XIV.,  always 
spiritual,  always  religious,  was  intimately  convinced 
that  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  been  sent  to  him  by 
heaven  for  his  salvation,  and  that  the  pious  counsels 
of  this  saintly  woman,  who  knew  how  to  render 
devotion  so  amiable  and  attractive,  seemed  to  him 
to  be  so  many  inspirations  from  on  high. 

It  must  not  be  believed,  however,  that  the  affec¬ 
tion  of  Louis  XIY.  for  Madame  de  Maintenon  was 
purely  ideal.  If  the  soul  counted  in  it  for  nearly 
all,  the  senses  stood  for  something.  On  this  head 
we  shall  content  ourselves  with  invoking  the  testi¬ 
mony  of  the  Abbé  de  Choisy  :  — 

“He  was  unwilling  to  remarry,”  says  the  abbé, 
“through  tenderness  for  his  people.  He  already 
had  three  grandsons,  and  wisely  judged  that  the 
princes  of  a  second  marriage  might,  in  course  of 
time,  cause  civil  wars.  On  the  other  hand,  he  could 
not  dispense  with  a  wife.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
pleased  him  greatly.  Her  gentle  and  insinuating 
wit  promised  him  an  agreeable  intercourse  capable  of 
recreating  him  after  the  cares  of  royalty.  Her  per¬ 
son  was  still  engaging,  and  her  age  prevented  her 
from  having  children.” 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  moreover,  that  the  life 
of  women  who  are  veritably  beautiful  resembles 


MABRIAGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  121 


that  of  nature  in  having  its  bright  autumnal  days, 
its  Saint  Martin’s  summer.  The  time  of  conquests 
with  such  women  is  far  more  prolonged  than  people 
ordinarily  believe.  The  truth  in  respect  to  this  is 
unknown  because  of  a  widespread  prejudice  which 
limits  feminine  successes  to  a  certain  age,  and 
because  lovers,  being  no  longer  flattered  by  the 
affection  of  women  who  are  not  young,  sometimes 
take  as  much  pains  to  hide  their  passion  as  they 
would  to  display  it  if  their  idols  were  only  twenty. 
For  my  own  part  I  am  persuaded  that  men  above 
forty  are  less  pleasing  than  women  of  the  same  age. 
Their  money,  their  position,  or  their  wit  may  still 
procure  them  successes,  but  deprived  of  these  ad¬ 
vantages  they  would  produce  no  impression.  On 
the  other  hand,  women  who  have  passed  their  fortieth 
year,  when  their  beauty  is  real,  still  preserve  charms 
which  make  them  loved  for  themselves  independ¬ 
ently  of  any  advantage  except  their  beauty.  But 
this  does  not  prevent  the  men  who  make  laws  and 
impose  ideas  from  asserting  that  a  woman  of  thirty 
is  as  old  as  a  man  of  forty.  To  our  mind,  this 
theory  is  merely  another  proof  of  masculine  fatuity. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  is  not  the  only  example  of 
a  woman  whose  prestige  has  survived  her  youth. 
Diana  of  Poitiers  was  nineteen  years  older  than 
Henry  II.  She  was  forty-eight  when  the  prince 
ascended  the  throne,  and  when  he  died,  twelve  years 
later,  she  was  still  his  mistress,  the  queen  of  his 
heart,  The  son  of  Madame  de  Sévigné  was  only 


122 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


twenty-four  when  he  became  enamoured  of  Ninon  de 
Lenclos,  then  fifty-five,  and  gave  up  Champmeslé, 
then  in  the  full  splendor  of  her  youth  and  talent, 
for  her.  Like  Diana  of  Poitiers  and  Ninon  de  Len¬ 
clos,  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  remarkably  well 
preserved.  She  had  never  had  any  children,  and 
the  regularity  of  her  conduct  had  contributed  to 
banish  wrinkles  from  her  noble  and  tranquil  visage. 
She  reminded  one  of  those  last  fair  days  of  autumn 
when  the  sun’s  rays,  though  they  dazzle  less,  have 
none  the  less  a  penetrating  softness.  As  the  Abbé 
de  Choisy  says  :  “  She  was  not  young,  but  she  had 
lively  and  brilliant  eyes,  her  face  sparkled  with 
intelligence.” 

Even  Saint-Simon,  her  pitiless  detractor,  is  obliged 
to  admit  “  that  she  had  much  wit,  incomparable  grace, 
an  easy  and  sometimes  a  reserved  and  deferential  air, 
together  with  a  manner  of  speech  which  was  gentle, 
just,  well-chosen  as  to  words,  and  naturally  eloquent 
and  brief.”  Lamartine,  that  admirable  genius  who 
had  an  intuitive  appreciation  of  things,  has  defined 
the  sentiment  of  Louis  XIV.  better  than  any  one  : 
“  The  scruples  of  Louis  XIV.  had  been  aided  by  his 
attraction  toward  Madame  de  Maintenon,  a  mature 
beauty,  but  preserved  by  the  retirement  and  chastity 
of  her  life  from  that  worldly  evaporation  which  soon 
withers  other  women.  An  attachment  to  Madame 
de  Maintenon  seemed  to  him  almost  the  same  thing 
as  an  attachment  to  virtue  itself.  The  charms  of 
confidence  and  piety,  intercourse  with  a  spirit  both 


MABRIAGE  OF  MADAME  BE  MAINTENON  123 


upright  and  refined,  the  lu-ide  of  raising  what  one 
loves  to  one’s  own  level,  and  finally,  it  must  be  said 
to  the  King’s  honor,  the  safe  counsels  he  received 
from  this  superior  woman, — ^all  these  lofty  and  ten¬ 
der  emotions  had  increased  Madame  de  Maintenon’s 
empire,  so  feminine  yet  so  virile,  to  absolute  domi¬ 
nation.”  ^ 

It  appears  that  Louis  XIV.  was  barely  a  widower 
when  he  offered  her  his  hand.  M.  de  La  Rochefou¬ 
cauld  had  taken  her  by  the  arm  a,t  the  very  moment 
when  the  Queen’s  soul  departed,  and  pushing  her 
into  the  royal  apartment,  had  said  to  her  :  “  This  is 
not  the  time  to  leave  the  King;  he  needs  you.” 

For  an  instant  a  project  of  marriage  between 
Louis  XIV.  and  the  Infanta  of  Portugal  was  talked 
of.  But  this  rumor  was  speedily  contradicted.  The 
King  preferred  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  the  young¬ 
est  and  most  brilliant  princesses  of  Europe. 

M.  Lavallée,  who  has  made  a  conscientious  study 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  life,  has  fixed  upon  the 
first  six  months  of  the  year  1684  as  the  period  when 
the  secret  marriage  was  contracted,  but  has  not  been 
able  to  ascertain  the  exact  day.  It  was  mysteriously 
celebrated  in  a  private  oratory  of  Versailles  by  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  in  presence  of  Père  La  Chaise 
who  said  the  Mass,  of  Bontemps,  first  valet-de- 
chambre  to  the  King,  and  of  Madame  de  Montchev- 
reuil,  one  of  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  best  friends. 


1  Lamartine,  Étude  sur  Bossuet. 


124 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEESAILLES 


Saint-Simon  speaks  of  it  with  horror  as  “the  most 
profound  humiliation,  the  most  public,  most  lasting, 
most  unheard-of,”  a  humiliation  “which  posterity 
will  be  unwilling  to  credit,  reserved  by  fortune,  not 
to  dare  mention  Providence  here,  for  the  haughtiest 
of  kings.”  This  was  not  Arnauld’s  opinion:  “I  do 
not  know,”  he  writes,  “what  can  be  reprehended  in 
this  marriage  contracted  according  to  the  regula¬ 
tions  of  the  Church.  It  is  not  humiliating  except 
in  the  estimation  of  the  feeble-minded,  who  think 
it  a  weakness  in  the  King  to  be  able  to  resolve  on 
marrying  a  woman  older  than  himself  and  so  far 
below  him  in  rank.  This  marriage  unites  him  with 
a  person  whose  mind  and  virtue  he  esteems,  and  in 
intercourse  with  whom  he  finds  innocent  pleasures 
which  recreate  him  after  his  great  occupations.”  ^ 

Madame  de  Maintenon  seemed  to  have  attained 
the  summit  of  her  desires.  But  she  was  too  intelli¬ 
gent,  she  had  studied  the  problems  of  human  destiny 
too  closely  and  anxiously,  not  to  be  attacked  by  sad¬ 
ness.  It  was  she  who  wrote  :  “  Before  being  at  court 
I  can  testify  that  I  had  never  known  ennui;  but  I 
have  experienced  it  thoroughly  since  then,  and  I 
believe  I  never  could  have  borne  up  under  it  if  I  had 
not  thought  that  it  was  there  God  wished  me  to  be. 
There  is  no  true  happiness  but  in  serving  God.” 

This  melancholy  of  which  the  expression  inces¬ 
santly  recurs,  like  a  plaintive  and  monotonous  re- 


1  Amauld,  letter  to  M.  de  Vancel,  June  3,  1688. 


MARRIAGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MAINTEMON  125 


frain,  in  Madame  de  Maintenou’s  letters,  is  all  the 
more  striking  because  it  is  a  profound  instruction. 
Here  we  have  a  woman,  better  say  a  fairy,  who,  at 
the  age  when  the  most  splendid  beauties  hear  the 
hour  strike  for  their  retirement,  arrives  at  a  truly 
prodigious  situation  and  at  fifty  years  of  age  takes 
possession  of  a  sovereign  of  forty-seven  in  all  the 
jDrestige  of  victory  and  power;  a  woman  who  with 
an  ability  that  borders  on  witchery  supplants  all 
the  fairest,  richest,  and  noblest  young  girls  in  the 
world,  not  one  of  whom  would  not  have  been  proud 
to  unite  herself  with  the  great  King;  a  woman  who, 
after  having  been  several  times  reduced  to  poverty, 
becomes,  next  to  Louis  XIV,,  the  most  impor¬ 
tant  personality  in  France!  And  yet  she  is  not 
happy!  Is  it  because  the  King  does  not  love  her 
enough?  Not  at  all.  For  the  letters  he  writes  her 
if  he  is  obliged  to  remain  away  from  her  for  several 
days  are  expressed  in  this  fashion  :  “  I  profit  by  the 
occasion  of  Montchevreuil’s  departure  to  assure  you 
of  a  verity  which  pleases  me  too  much  to  let  me  tire 
of  telling  it  to  you  ;  it  is  that  I  cherish  you  always, 
that  I  esteem  you  more  highly  than  I  can  express, 
and  that  in  fine,  whatever  affection  you  may  have 
for  me,  I  have  still  more  for  you,  being  with  all  my 
heart  entirely  yours.” ^ 

If  she  is  sad,  is  it  because  one  step  yet  remains  to 
be  taken  in  the  marvellous  ladder  of  her  fortune? 


1  Letter  written  during  the  siege  of  Mons,  April,  1G91. 


126 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Is  it  because  slie  lias  not  been  able  to  transform  her 
almost  royal  armcbair  into  a  throne?  In  no  wise. 
If  she  bad  been  recognized  as  Queen  she  would  still 
have  remained  sorrowful,  and  her  brother  might  still 
have  said  to  her:  “  Had  you  then  a  promise  of  espous¬ 
ing  the  Eternal  Father  ?  ” 

However,  she  had  converted  a  fickle  man  into  a 
constant  one.  This  quinquagenarian  had  fixed  the 
sovereign  whose  heart  La  Vallière  with  all  her  love, 
Montespan  with  all  her  wit,  had  not  been  able  to 
retain.  During  more  than  thirty  years  she  was  to 
reign  without  a  rival  over  the  soul  of  the  greatest  of 
all  kings,  and  it  was  not  the  monarch  alone  but  the 
monarchy  which  was  to  incline  respectfully  before 
her.  The  whole  court  was  at  her  feet,  soliciting  a 
word,  a  glance.  As  the  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr  say  in 
their  notes,  “parliaments,  princes,  cities,  regiments, 
addressed  themselves  to  her  as  to  the  King;  none  of 
the  nobles  of  the  realm,  the  cardinals  and  bishops, 
knew  any  other  way.”  She  was  at  the  culminating 
point  of  repute,  consideration,  and  fortune,  and  yet, 
I  repeat,  she  was  not  happy! 

Fénelon  wrote  to  her,  October  4,  1689:  “God  often 
tries  others  by  crosses  which  appear  as  crosses.  You 
He  desires  to  crucify  by  apparent  prosperity,  and  to 
give  you  a  clear  knowledge  of  the  nothingness  of  the 
world  by  means  of  the  wretchedness  attached  to  all 
that  is  most  dazzling  therein.” 

Arrived  at  tlie  height  of  grandeur,  Madame  de 
Maintenon  experienced  that  disquietude,  that  fa- 


]iIAnRIAGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  127 


tigue,  which  is  nearly  always  the  companion  of  satis¬ 
fied  ambition.  She  was  tempted  to  say  with  La 
Bruyère:  “Two  thirds  of  my  life  are  over;  why  dis¬ 
turb  myself  so  much  about  what  remains  ?  The 
most  brilliant  fortune  is  not  worth  the  torment  which 
I  give  myself.  Thirty  j^ears  will  destroy  those  giants 
of  power  which  were  seen  to  raise  their  heads  by 
dint  of  violence,  and  all  those  whom  I  beheld  so 
eagerly  and  by  whom  I  hoped  to  attain  greatness  ;  the 
greatest  of  boons,  if  any  boons  there  be,  is  repose, 
retirement,  and  a  place  which  would  be  one’s  own.” 

Arrived  at  an  incredible  position,  the  wife  of  the 
greatest  king  on  earth  regretted  Scarron’s  house  — 
she  says  it  herself  —  “  as  the  duck  regrets  its  muddy 
pond.”  The  spectacle  of  grandeurs  seen  too  near  at 
hand  no  longer  dazzled  her  eyes.  Taught  by  experi¬ 
ence  she  said  with  La  Fontaine:  — 

“  Que  la  Fortune  vend  ce  qu’on  croit  qu’elle  donne,”  ^ 

and  if  her  mind,  fatigued  with  luxury,  power,  and 
glory,  was  transported  back  to  the  days  of  mediocrity, 
it  was  because  she  had  then  neither  a  marquisate  of 
Maintenon  nor  an  apartment  on  the  same  footing 
with  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  while  she  did  possess  two 
treasures,  precious  in  far  other  wise,  whieh  were 
hers  in  Scarron’s  dwelling,  but  which  she  had  lost  in 
the  Versailles  of  the  Sun-King  —  two  treasures 
really  beautiful,  truly  inestimable,  one  of  which  is 
called  Youth  and  the  other  Gaiety. 


1  How  Fortune  sells  what  she  is  supposed  to  give  ! 


VIII 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON’S  APAETMENT 
EOPLE  forget  quickly  in  France,  and  venera- 


JL  tion  for  the  past  is  dwindling,  along  with  every 
other  sort  of  veneration.  If  time  is  a  destroyer,  man 
is  a  still  greater  one:  Tempus  edax^  homo  edacior. 
Could  one  believe  that  the  apartment  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  that  celebrated  apartment  in  which,  dur¬ 
ing  thirty  years,  Louis  XIV.  passed  a  great  part  of 
his  days  and  evenings,  is  now  merely  a  small 
museum  containing  nothing  but  pictures  of  the 
battles  of  the  French  Revolution?  There  is  not  a 
single  piece  of  furniture  belonging  to  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV.  ;  not  a  portrait  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon;  not  a  souvenir,  not  an  inscription  which 
recalls  the  illustrious  companion  of  the  great  King! 
Ignorant  and  heedless,  strangers  in  our  own  land, 
we  spurn  with  disdainful  feet  the  débris  which  we 
should  hold  sacred.  One  might  fancy  us  embar¬ 
rassed  by  the  importance  of  our  annals,  the  abun¬ 
dance  of  our  glories.  We  look  with  indifference  at 
our  monuments  and  our  ruins.  How  many  there 
are  who  visit  the  palace  of  Versailles  without  troub- 


128 


MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN. 


1 


MADAME  BE  MAINTEEON'S  APABTMENT  129 


ling  themselves  to  inquire  for  the  room  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon  or  that  of  Marie  Antoinette!  It 
would  be  tiresome  and  expensive  to  buy  and  consult 
a  catalogue. 

It  would  be  well  to  bring  about  a  reaction  against 
this  forgetfulness  of  traditions,  this  neglect  of  the 
past.  History  needs  Cuviers  as  nature  does.  His¬ 
tory  is  a  great  drama  the  decorations  and  scenes  of 
which  should  be  revived  as  well  as  the  personages. 
To  this  life  of  the  dead,  movement  is  necessary,  the 
animation  of  resuscitated  actors  whose  faces  are 
beheld  and  whose  voices  listened  to.  The  work  of 
reconstruction  should  be  complete.  M.  Théophile 
Lavallée  has  remarked  in  the  introduction  he  has 
composed  to  a  learned  and  curious  work  by  M.  Le 
Roi,^  that  in  spite  of  the  attempts  that  have  been 
made,  it  may  be  said  that  the  history  of  the  château 
of  Versailles  has  yet  to  be  written. 

“It  would  be  fortunate  in  the  existing  period  of 
revolutions,  demolitions,  and  transformations  if  it 
could  be  done  quickly;  for  Versailles,  that  great 
creation  of  Louis  XIV.,  has  been  subjected,  espe¬ 
cially  since  the  establishment  of  historical  galleries 
to  such  distressing  alterations,  that  it  is  no  longer 
recognizable  save  on  the  exterior.” 

I  do  not  deny  that  the  general  idea  which  presided 
over  the  restoration  of  the  palace  may  have  had  a 


1  Curiosités  historiques  sur  Louis  XIIL,  Louis  XIV.,  et  Louis 
XV.,  by  M.  Le  Koi,  cui’ator  of  tlie  Library  of  Versailles. 


130 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEESAILLES 


certain  grandeur  from  the  patriotic  point  of  view. 
But  considered  from  that  of  art  and  history  it  vras 
absolutely  had. 

To  place  the  annals  of  the  Revolution  and  the 
Empire  in  the  Sanctuary  of  Monarchy  by  divine  right 
was  to  deprive  the  dwelling-place  of  the  great  King 
of  all  its  distinctive  features.  The  image  of  Napo¬ 
leon  is  as  much  out  of  place  at  Versailles  as  the 
statue  of  Louis  XIV.  would  be  on  the  summit  of 
the  Vendôme  column. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  if  one  desires 
to  be  just,  that  Louis-Philippe  rvas  far  from  being 
free  to  act  in  the  matter  of  the  Versailles  restora¬ 
tions.  All  Europe  was  pervaded  by  a  revolutionary 
influence  so  violent  that  the  restoration  of  the 
palace  of  Absolute  Monarchy  was  a  very  dif6.cult 
thing. 

At  the  moment  when  the  work  was  undertaken, 
the  time  seemed  to  be  drawing  nigh  when  one  might 
say  with  the  poet:  “The  ruins  themselves  have  per¬ 
ished.”  Etiam  periere  ruince.  In  his  Génie  du 
Christianisme  Chateaubriand  had  written  apropos  of 
Versailles:  “This  palace  which  is  like  a  great  city 
by  itself,  these  marble  stairways  which  seem  to  rise 
to  the  clouds,  these  statues,  these  reservoirs,  these 
woods,  are  now  either  crumbling,  or  covered  with 
moss,  or  withered,  or  overthrown.” 

Count  Alexandre  de  Laborde  relates  that  a  trav¬ 
eller  who  had  seen  Versailles  in  all  its  pomp  in 
1789,  at  the  opening  of  the  States  General,  was  curi- 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  APARTMENT  131 


ous  to  return  there  after  several  years  of  absence. 
Hastening  across  the  grass  that  was  growing  in  the 
courts,  he  entered  this  dwelling  of  kings  and  found 
solitude,  devastation,  sick-heds  in  the  gilded  gal¬ 
leries,  flocks  pasturing  in  the  gardens,  statues 
thrown  down  and  mutilated.  Then  plunging  into 
the  adjacent  woods  he  climbed  tlie  hill  of  Satory, 
and  as  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  sadly  illumined  the 
majestic  and  melancholy  edifice  in  the  distance,  he 
repeated  this  striking  passage  from  the  author  of  Les 
Ruines  :  “  Here  was  the  seat  of  a  powerful  empire  ; 
these  places  now  so  deserted  were  once  animated  by 
a  living  multitude  ;  these  walls,  where  now  a  gloomy 
silence  reigns,  resounded  with  festivities  and  shouts 
of  gladness,  and  now  behold  what  remains  of  a  vast 
domination:  a  lugubrious  skeleton,  an  obscure  and 
empty  souvenir,  a  deathlike  solitude;  the  palace 
-of  kings  has  become  the  resort  of  fallow  deer!  How 
has  so  much  glory  been  eclipsed?”^ 

Such  was,  let  us  not  forget  it,  the  degradation  of 
the  chateau  of  Versailles,  when  Louis-Philippe,  in 
spite  of  the  outcries  of  the  modern  iconoclasts, 
undertook  to  repair  it.  The  Citizen-King  could  not 
save  the  palace  of  the  Sun-King  otherwise  than  by 
placing  it,  as  one  might  say,  under  the  tutelage  of 
republican  and  imperial  glories.  To  obtain  pardon 
for  an  attempt  contrary  to  the  destructive  interests 
of  the  demagogues,  he  had  to  commission  a  horde  of 


Volney,  Les  Ruines. 


132 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


second-rate  artists  whose  works  were  much  more 
remarkable  for  their  number  than  their  merit. 
Thence  arose  this  confusion  between  the  most  in¬ 
congruous  genres  ;  this  bizarre  assemblage  of  glories 
which  seem  astonished  to  find  themselves  side  by 
side;  this  Pantheon  which  has  the  characteristics 
of  a  Babel. 

M.  Lavallée  remarks  with  much  justice:  “The 
National  Museum  has  caused  the  interior  of  the 
chateau  of  Versailles  to  undergo  a  complete  trans¬ 
formation.  The  intention  of  this  museum  was  ex¬ 
cellent,  but  the  execution  is  not  on  a  level  with  it. 
Undertaken  by  men  little  versed  in  the  history  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  it  has  unfortunately  ruined 
the  most  interesting  parts  of  the  chateau,  and  it  is 
thus  that  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  apartment,  now 
almost  unrecognizable,  is  occupied  by  three  galleries 
of  the  campaigns  of  1793,  1794,  1795. 

It  is  certain  now  that  the  persons  employed  in  the 
restoration  of  Versailles  did  not  even  know  the  site 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  apartment.  It  was  on 
that  account  that  no  one  thought  of  placing  a  por¬ 
trait  of  this  celebrated  woman  in  the  rooms  she 
formerly  occupied.  They  might  easily  have  decided 
the  point  by  studying  Saint-Simon  with  moderate 
attention.  But  no  one  took  this  trouble.  In  order 
to  solve  the  question  it  was  necessary  for  M.  Le 
Roi  to  publish,  in  1848,  the  opuscule  entitled:  “In 
what  part  of  the  chateau  of  Versailles  was  the  apart¬ 
ment  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  situated?”  The 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  APARTMENT  133 


conclusions  arrived  at  in  this  work  leave  no  further 
room  for  doubt.  The  marble  staircase,  or  staircase 
of  the  Queen,  ended  in  a  vestibule.  At  the  left  of 
this  vestibule  is  the  hall  of  the  King’s  guards. ^  At 
the  right,  opposite  this  hall,  is  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon’s  apartment.  At  present  the  traces  of  it  are 
barely  discoverable.  In  fact,  it  is  not  merely  en¬ 
tirely  stripped  of  furniture,  but  it  has  been  shortened 
by  the  stairway  constructed  by  Louis-Philippe  in 
order  to  carry  the  marble  staircase  to  the  attics, 
which  cuts  in  two  the  former  apartment  of  the 
King’s  companion. 

This  apartment,  en  suite  with  that  of  Louis  XIV., 
was  composed  of  four  rooms,  the  two  ante-chambers 
of  which  now  form  but  a  single  room  (the  hall  of 
1795). 2  Next  to  these  ante-chambers  came  Madame 
de  Maintenon’s  bedchamber  (hall  of  1794).^  This 
room,  which  has  been  subdivided  since  the  establish¬ 
ment  of  the  historical  galleries  in  order  to  carry  the 
marble  staircase  up  to  the  second  story,  formed  in 
the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  one  large  room  lighted 
by  three  windows.  Between  the  door  by  which  it 
was  entered  and  the  chimney-piece,  now  destroyed,^ 
was,  says  Saint-Simon,  “  the  King’s  armchair  against 


1  Boom  No.  120  of  the  Notice  du  Musée,  by  M.  Soulié. 

2  Room  No.  141  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 

®  Room  No.  142  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 

^  This  chimney-piece  was  at  the  end  of  the  room,  at  the  right 
of  the  picture  representing  the  combat  of  Boussu,  No.  2296  of  the 
Notice. 


134 


THE  n^OMEJSr  OF  VERSAILLES 


the  wall,  a  table  in  front  of  him,  and  a  folding¬ 
chair  around  it  for  the  minister  who  was  workinsf. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  chimney-piece  a  niche  of 
red  damask,  an  armchair,  where  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  sat  with  a  small  table  in  front  of  her.  A  lit¬ 
tle  further  off  was  her  bed,  in  an  alcove.^  Opposite 
the  foot  of  the  bed  a  door  and  five  steps.” ^ 

At  home  with  the  King,  says  Saint-Simon  once 
more,  “  they  were  each  in  his  armchair,  with  a 
table  in  front  of  each,  in  the  two  chimney  corners, 
she  on  the  side  next  the  bed,  the  King  with  his  back 
to  the  wall,  on  the  side  of  the  door  of  the  ante-cham¬ 
ber,  and  two  stools  in  front  of  his  table,  one  for  the 
minister  who  was  coming  to  work  and  the  other  for 
his  bag.” 

In  fine,  there  was  nothing  splendid  about  this 
apartment.  “I  do  not  know,”  says  M.  Lavallée, 
“if  the  chambermaid  of  some  parvenu  of  our  own 
days  would  be  content  with  this  unique  chamber 
where  Imuis  XIV.  came  to  work,  and  where  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Maintenon  ate,  slept,  dressed  herself,  and 
received  the  whole  court,  and  which  every  one  en¬ 
tered  as  she  said,  as  if  into  a  church.  For  that 


1  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  bed  was  in  the  place  now  occupied 
by  the  stucco  staircase,  built  under  the  reign  of  Louis-Philippe, 
which  continues  the  marble  staircase.  The  five  steps  which  led 
1/1  the  fourth  and  last  room  of  the  apartment  (grand  cabinet  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon  —  room  No.  143  of  the  Notice^  have  been 
removed,  the  flooring  of  the  latter  having  been  lowered. 

2  Introduction  to  Curiosités  historiques  on  Louis  XIII.,  Louis 
XIV.,  and  Louis  XV.,  by  M.  Le  Koi. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  APARTMENT  135 


matter,  the  princes,  the  princesses,  even  the  King 
himself,  were  not  more  commodionsly  lodged. 
Everything  had  been  sacrificed  to  pomp,  brilliancy, 
and  display  in  this  magnificent  chateau.  Louis 
XIV.  was  perpetually  on  the  stage  and  playing  his 
part  as  king  uninterruptedly,  but  amidst  all  these 
paintings,  gildings,  marbles,  and  splendors  not  a 
single  one  of  the  conveniences  of  our  days  was  to  be 
had;  one  froze  in  these  immense  rooms,  these  grand 
galleries,  these  chambers  open  on  every  side.” 

Now  that  we  know  the  apartment  of  the  companion 
of  Louis  XIV.,  let  us  glance  at  the  existence  she  led 
there.  She  generally  rose  between  six  and  seven 
o’clock  and  went  at  once  to  Mass,  where  she  received 
communion  three  or  four  times  a  week.  Her  day 
was  spent  in  good  works,  writing,  and  in  visits  to 
Saint-Cyr.  The  King  came  regularly  to  see  her 
every  day  between  five  and  six  in  the  evening 
and  remained  until  ten,  the  hour  when  he  went  to 
supper. 

Madame  de  Maintenon’s  retinue  was  very  modest. 
The  King  gave  her  48,000  livres  annually,  plus  a 
New  Year’s  gift  of  12,000  livres,  nearly  all  of  which 
sum  was  devoted  to  alms.  Her  old  servant  Manon, 
who  had  been  her  companion  in  days  of  adversity, 
still  remained  with  her,  and  she  had  also  a  few  silent 
and  respectfiil  domestics.  Her  existence  may  be 
described  briefly  as  a  life  of  abnegation,  constraint, 
and  obedience.  Her  rank  which  placed  her  between 
private  persons  and  queens  being  indeterminate,  it 


136 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


would  have  been  difficult  for  her  to  have  lived  habit¬ 
ually  amid  the  etiquette  of  the  court.  Hence  slae 
seldom  left  her  apartment.  Voltaire  says  that  her 
elevation,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  was  simply  a 
retreat. 

While  Madame  de  Maintenon  thus  withdraws 
into  herself,  the  court  around  her  is  full  of  commo¬ 
tion.  The  marble  staircase  at  the  foot  of  which  is 
the  apartment  of  the  Dauphin,  and  which  leads  to 
those  of  the  Dauphiness,  Madame  de  Maintenon  and 
Louis  XIV.,  is  incessantly  crowded  with  those  men 
“  who  are  masters  of  their  gestures,  their  eyes,  their 
faces,  who  hide  their  evil  functions,  smile  at  their 
enemies,  disguise  their  passions.”^  Tli^y  ascend 
this  staircase  to  attend  the  levee  and  the  couchee  of 
the  King.  They  pass  through  the  hall  of  the  guards 
(room  No.  120  of  the  Notice  du  Musée'),  the  King’s 
ante-chamber  (room  No.  121),  and  then  into  the 
Chambre  des  Bassans,  where  they  await  the  mon¬ 
arch’s  rising. 

The  Chambre  des  Bassans,^  so  called,  says  Féli- 
bien,  because  several  pictures  by  Bassano  were  hung 
above  the  doors  and  the  wainscoting,  is  the  waiting- 
room  which  precedes  the  bedchamber  of  Louis  XIV. 

1  La  Bruyère,  La  Cour. 

2  Room  No.  123  of  the  Notice  du  Musée.  Under  Louis  XIV. 
this  hall,  which  at  present  forms  the  salon  of  the  Œil-de-Bœuf, 
was  divided  into  two  rooms  :  the  first  was  that  of  the  Bassans,  the 
second  served  as  the  King’s  bedchamber  until  1691,  when  he 
installed  himself  in  the  succeeding  room  (No.  124)  to  remain  there 
until  his  death. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  APARTMENT  137 


It  has  several  different  entries:  the  familiar  entry 
for  the  princes,  the  grand  entry  for  the  great  crown 
officials,  the  first  entry  for  those  whose  duties  entitle 
them  to  come  in,  the  entry  for  the  officials  of  the 
King’s  chamber.  The  ceremonial  is  regulated  in 
the  most  precise  manner.  The  two  leaves  of  the 
folding  door  are  never  opened  except  for  the  Dauphin 
and  the  princes  of  the  blood.  The  door  opens  for 
each  person  admitted  and  closes  at  once  behind 
him. 

“  One  must  gently  scratch  the  doors  of  the  cham¬ 
ber,  the  ante-chambers,  and  the  cabinets,  not  rudely 
strike  them.  Moreover,  if  one  wishes  to  pass  out 
when  the  doors  are  closed,  it  is  not  permissible  to 
open  them  one’s  self,  but  they  must  be  opened  by 
the  usher.” ^ 

Louis  XIV.  rises  at  eight  o’clock  and  says  his 
prayers.  Then  he  steps  out  of  the  balustrade  sur¬ 
rounding  his  bed  and  says:  “To  the  council.”  He 
works  with  his  ministers  until  half-past  twelve. 
Afterwards,  escorted  by  the  princes,  the  princesses, 
the  officials,  and  the  great  nobles,  he  goes  to  Mass, 
crossing  the  Gallery  des  Glaces,  where  any  one  may 
see  him,  present  a  petition,  and  even  speak  to  him. 
He  passes  through  the  salons  of  W ar,  Apollo,  Mer¬ 
cury,  Mars,  Diana,  Venus,  and  Abundance  ^  to  reach 


1  Etat  de  France  in  1694. 

2  These  salons,  which  form  what  are  called  the  grand  apart¬ 
ments  of  the  King,  are  numbered  112,  111,  110,  109,  108,  107, 106, 
in  the  Notice  du  Musée. 


138 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


the  chapel,^  which  rises  from  the  ground  floor  to  the 
second  story.  The  altar  and  the  pulpit,  in  which 
Bossuet,  Bourdaloue,  and  Massillon  preached  by 
turns,  are  below.  The  upper  part  is  occupied  by 
galleries. 

“  The  nobles  form  a  vast  circle  at  the  foot  of  the 
altar,  where  they  remain  standing  with  their  backs 
turned  to  the  priest  and  the  sacred  mysteries,  and 
their  faces  raised  towards  their  King,  who  is  seen 
kneeling  on  a  rostrum,  and  on  whom  all  their  minds 
and  hearts  seem  to  be  fixed.  One  cannot  fail  to  see 
a  kind  of  subordination  in  this  custom,  for  the  peo¬ 
ple  seem  to  adore  the  prince,  and  the  prince  to  adore 
God.  ”2 

After  Mass  the  King  dines,  usually  on  few  dishes, 
and  alone  in  his  chamber.  At  two  o’clock  he  shoots 
in  the  park,  walks  in  the  gardens,  or  hunts  the  deer 
either  on  horseback  or  in  an  open  carriage.  Toward 
five  or  six  o’clock  he  repairs,  as  we  have  said  al- 
read}’-,  to  Madame  de  Maintenon’s  apartment  and 


1  This  chapel  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  existing  chapel, 
which  was  not  inaugurated  until  1710.  The  Salon  of  Hercules 
(No.  106  of  the  Notice),  which  now  serves  as  entrance  to  the  grand 
apartments,  was  the  chapel  from  1682  to  1710.  That  part  of  the 
palace  containing  the  Salon  of  Hercules  and  the  vestibule  below  it, 
unites  the  north  wing  to  the  centre.  The  chapel,  which  combined 
the  height  of  the  ground  floor  and  that  of  the  first  story,  was  on 
this  site.  A  picture,  representing  Dangeau  receiving  investiture  as 
grand  master  of  the  order  of  St.  Lazarus, -reproduces  its  interior. 
This  picture  is  in  room  9  of  the  Notice  du  Musée,  and  is  numbered 
164. 

2  La  Bruyère,  La  Cour. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  APARTMENT  139 


there  he  works  again  with  his  ministers  during  a 
great  part  of  the  evening.  He  leaves  her  towards 
nine  or  ten  o’clock  and  then  goes  either  to  the  play 
or  to  the  Apartment. 

What  is  designated  by  this  title  is  the  reunion  of 
the  whole  court  in  the  apartments  of  the  King.  The 
Mercure  galant  of  1682  gives  a  curious  description 
of  these  soirées  which  were  established  in  the  first 
year  of  the  definitive  installation  of  Louis  XIV.  at 
Versailles.  “The  King,”  says  the  Mercure^  “per¬ 
mits  admission  to  his  grand  apartment  of  Versailles 
on  Monday,  Wednesday,  and  Thursday  of  each  week, 
and  all  sorts  of  games  to  be  played  there  from  six 
in  the  evening  until  ten,  and  these  days  are  called 
Apartment  days.” 

People  ascend  the  great  staircase  of  the  King, 
or  of  the  Ambassadors,  that  magnificent  staircase 
decorated  by  the  sculptures  of  Coysevox,  and  the 
paintings  of  Lebrun  and  Van  der  Meulen.^  They 
enter  the  salon  of  Abundance,^  so-called  because 
there  are  bas-reliefs  representing  Abundance  over 
the  marble  door.  Refreshment  tables  are  laid  in  this 
salon,  which  is  adorned  with  pictures  by  Carracci, 
Guido,  and  Paul  Veronese.  Then  they  pass  into  the 
salon  of  Venus,  filled  with  splendid  furniture,  and 


1  The  staircase  of  the  Ambassadors,  also  called  grand  staircase 
of  the  King,  was  in  the  north  wing,  and  led  to  the  grand  apart¬ 
ments  of  Louis  XIV.  It  was  destroyed  in  1750  in  consequence  of 
the  alterations  ma{le  in  the  apartments  of  Louis  XV. 

^  Room  loo  of  the  Notice  du  3Iusée. 


140 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


then  into  that  of  Diana,  where  the  billiard  tables 
are,  and  where  orange  trees  are  blooming  in  silver 
tubs.  The  salon  of  Mars,  where  one  may  admire 
six  of  Titian’s  portraits,  Jesus  and  the  pilgrims  to 
JEJmmaus,  by  Veronese,  The  Family  of  Darius  at  the 
feet  of  Alexander,  by  Lebrun,  is  the  room  where  they 
play.  In  the  middle  of  it,  on  a  table  covered  with 
green  velvet,  there  is  a  trou-madame  of  inlaid  wood 
surrounded  by  hangings  of  red  velvet  fringed  with 
gold.  There  are  also  tables  for  card-playing  and 
for  games  of  chance.  The  next  room  is  the  salon 
of  Mercury,  where  the  state  bed  is,  and  pictures  by 
Carracci,  Titian,  and  Van  Dyck. 

Then  comes  the  magnificent  salon  of  Apollo, 
which  is  the  Throne  room.  At  the  end  of  it  is  a 
platform  covered  by  a  Persian  carpet  with  a  gold 
ground  on  which  stands  a  silver  throne  eight  feet; 
high.  Four  statues  of  infants  carrying  flower  bas¬ 
kets  support  the  seat  and  the  back,  which  are  covered 
with  red  velvet.  Domenichino’s  David,  Rubens’ 
Tomyris,  and  pictures  by  Guido  and  Van  Dyck 
adorn  this  salon,  which  is  that  where  Louis  XIV. 
gives  audience  to  foreign  ambassadors,  and  which  on 
Apartment  days  is  devoted  to  music  and  dancing. 

On  those  days  there  is  great  stir  and  animation. 
Diamonds  and  jewels  sparkle  in  the  dazzling  lustre 
of  chandeliers.  People  are  ecstatic  over  the  resplen¬ 
dent  toilettes  of  the  most  beautiful  women  in  France. 
A  perfume  of  elegance  and  aristocracy  exhales  from 
amidst  the  lights  and  flowers. 


MADAME  DE  3IAINTEN0N  'S  APARTMENT  141 


“Some  choose  one  game  and  some  another.  Still 
others  only  desire  to  watch  the  playing,  or  to  walk 
about  and  admire  the  assembly  and  the  richness  of 
these  grand  apartments.  Although  they  are  filled, 
one  sees  none  but  men  and  women  of  high  rank. 
People  are  entirely  free  to  converse  there.  .  .  . 
Respect,  however,  prevents  them  from  raising  their 
voices  too  high,  so  that  the  noise  one  hears  is  not 
disagreeable.  .  .  .  The  King  lays  aside  his  gran¬ 
deur  in  order  to  play  with  many  of  the  assembly  who 
have  never  had  such  an  honor.  He  goes  from  one 
game  to  another.  He  will  not  allow  any  one  to  rise 
nor  interrupt  the  game  when  he  approaches.”^ 

The  reunion  breaks  up  at  ten  o’clock,  the  hour 
when  Louis  XIV.  takes  his  supper,  usually  au  grand 
couvert^  with  the  royal  family  in  the  room  called  the 
King’s  ante-chamber. 2  Here  is  the  nave,  a  piece  of 
jeweller’s  work  in  silver  gilt  shaped  like  a  dismasted 
vessel.  In  it  are  kept  the  King’s  napkins  between 
scented  cushions.  Everybody  who  passes  in  front 
of  the  nave,  even  the  princesses,  must  salute  it,  as 
they  do  the  King’s  bed  when  entering  the  bed¬ 
chamber. 

Supper  ended,  Louis  XIV.  enters  his  chamber, 
where  he  receives  his  private  family,  his  brother, 
and  his  children,  with  their  husbands  or  wives.  He 
chats  until  the  couchee,  which  takes  place  toward 


1  Mercure  galant.  December,  1G82. 

2  Room  121  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 


142 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


iiiidniglit,  or  one  o’clock  at  latest.  The  greatest 
nobles  strive  for  the  honor  of  holding  the  candlestick 
while  the  sovereign  undresses.  As  Saint-Simon 
remarks,  it  is  a  distinction,  a  favor  which  is  counted 
on,  so  skilful  is  Louis  XIV.  in  making  something 
out  of  nothing. 

The  task  of  the  courtiers  is  ended  for  to-day. 
The  lights  are  extinguished.  All  subsides  into 
darkness  and  silence.  At  last  it  is  the  hour  for 
repose.  But  one  sleeps  little  or  sleeps  badly  in 
this  region  which  La  Bruyère  speaks  of,  “which  is 
some  forty-eight  degrees  of  elevation  from  the  pole 
and  more  than  eleven  hundred  leagues  by  sea  from 
the  Iroquois  and  the  Hurons.”  Here  the  “joys  are 
visible  but  false,  and  vexations  hidden  but  real.” 
The  night’s  slumber  is  disturbed  by  reminiscences  of 
yesterday,  and  by  anxieties  for  to-morrow,  and  one 
forgets  neither  his  ambitions  nor  his  cares,  because 
whether  sleeping  or  waking  one  thinks  of  nothing 
hut  his  own  interests. 


IX 


THE  MAKQUISE  DE  CAYDUS 

Amidst  the  court  of  Versailles,  now  grown 
old  and  saddened,  one  sees  here  and  there 
young,  smiling,  luminous  faces,  fresh  and  lively 
countenances  which  brighten  up  the  palace,  eyes 
that  sparkle,  gracious,  intelligent,  and  sympathetic 
smiles,  sweet  and  persuasive  voices,  enchanting 
women  whose  charm  sheds  somewhat  of  light  and 
poesy  over  ceremonial  gravities  and  the  weariness 
of  etiquette. 

Louis  XIV.  loved  youth.  As  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  who  had  never  had  any  children  and  who 
had,  nevertheless,  the  qualities  necessary  to  make 
her  a  good  mother,  she  made  herself  amends  for  the 
cruelty  of  fate  by  watching  with  maternal  solicitude 
over  the  children  whom  she  cherished.  It  was  thus 
she  educated  her  niece  d  la  mode  de  Bretagne,  the 
pretty  and  graceful  Mademoiselle  de  Murçay-Vil- 
lette,  a  tj^pical  French  woman,  gay,  satirical,  even  a 
trifle  caustic,  animated,  amusing,  captivating  and 
captivated. 

She  merits  special  mention  in  the  galaxy  of  Ver- 
143 


144 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


sallies,  this  little  magician  who  handled  the  pen  as 
well  as  she  did  the  fan,  this  clever  woman  who  has 
had  the  honor  of  being  cited  by  Sainte-Beuve  as  the 
model  of  those  exquisite  qualities  which  are  summed 
up  in  the  word  urbanity^  this  enchantress  to  whom 
Madame  de  Maintenon  said:  “You  know  very  well 
how  to  dispense  with  pleasures,  but  pleasures  cannot 
dispense  with  you.” 

Marguerite  de  Murçay-Villette,  Marquise  de  Cay- 
lus,  was  born  in  Poitou,  in  the  year  1673.  Benja¬ 
min  de  Valois,  Marquis  de  Villette,  had  espoused 
Arthémise  d’Aubigné,  daughter  of  the  famous  Théo¬ 
dore  Agrippa  d’Aubigné,  the  soldier-poet,  the  au¬ 
stere  and  imperious  Calvinist,  the  haughty  and 
satirical  companion  of  Henry  IV.,  Théodore  Agrippa 
d’Aubigné,  whose  son  was  the  father  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon.  The  little  de  Murçay-Villette  was 
seven  years  old,  and  her  father,  who  was  in  the  navy, 
was  on  duty  when  her  aunt  à  la  mode  de  Bretagne, 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  resolved  to  convert  her  to 
Catholicism. 

This  was  the  moment  when  Louis  XIV.  was  con¬ 
verting  the  Huguenots  of  his  realm  with  their  will 
or  against  it.  The  child  was  taken  away  from  her 
family  and  conveyed  to  Saint-Germain. 

“At  first  I  cried  a  good  deal,”  she  says  in  her 
Souvenirs,  “but  the  next  day  I  found  the  King’s 
Mass  so  beautiful  that  I  consented  to  become  a 
Catholic  on  condition  that  I  should  hear  it  every 
day  and  that  no  one  should  whip  me.  That  is  all 


THE  MAlîQUISE  LE  CAY  LU  S 


145 


the  controversy  that  was  employed  and  the  only 
abjuration  that  I  made.” 

M.  de  Murçay-Villette  was  indignant  at  first,  but 
he  ended  by  growing  milder  and  embracing  the 
Catholic  religion  himself.  As  the  King  was  con¬ 
gratulating  him,  he  responded  :  “  This  is  the  only 
occasion  in  my  life  when  it  has  not  been  my  object 
to  please  Your  Majesty.” 

Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  had  the  vocation  and 
the  aptitudes  of  a  teacher,  took  pleasure  in  occupy¬ 
ing  herself  with  her  niece. 

“I  was  brought  up,”  says  the  latter,  “with  a  care 
for  which  Madame  de  Maintenon  cannot  be  too  much 
praised.  Nothing  happened  at  court  without  her 
causing  me  to  make  such  reflections  on  it  as  I  was 
capable  of,  approving  me  when  I  thought  justly,  and 
correcting  me  when  I  thought  badly.  My  days 
were  spent  among  masters,  reading,  and  honest  and 
well-regulated  amusements  ;  my  memory  was  culti¬ 
vated  by  obliging  me  to  learn  verses  by  heart,  and 
as  I  was  under  the  necessity  of  giving  an  account  of 
my  reading  or  of  any  sermon  I  heard,  I  was  forced 
to  pay  attention.  In  addition  to  this  I  had  to  write 
a  letter  every  day  either  to  a  member  of  my  family 
or  some  other  person  whom  I  might  choose,  and  this 
I  had  to  take  to  Madame  de  Maintenon  every  even¬ 
ing  that  she  might  either  approve  or  correct  it, 
according  as  it  was  well  or  ill  done.” 

At  the  age  of  thirteen  Mademoiselle  de  Villette 
was  already  charming,  and  her  hand  was  asked  for 


146 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


by  the  greatest  nobles,  M.  de  Roquelaure  and  M. 
de  Boufflers.  Madame  de  Maintenon  thought  she 
ought  not  to  accept  such  brilliant  offers  for  her 
niece. 

“My  niece  is  not  a  sufficiently  good  match  for 
you,”  she  said  to  M.  de  Boufflers.  “Still,  I  am  not 
insensible  to  the  honor  you  pay  me.  I  will  not  give 
her  to  you,  but  in  future  I  shall  consider  you  as  my 
nephew.” 

The  woman  who  used  this  language  often  dis¬ 
played  what  may  be  called  an  ostentatious  modesty. 
She  rather  gloried  in  making  a  commonplace  mar¬ 
riage  for  her  charming  niece,  and  selected  for  her  a 
husband  devoid  of  merit,  fortune,  or  command,  M. 
de  Tubières,  Marquis  de  Caylus.  The  young  wife 
was  only  thirteen  years  old.  The  King  gave  her 
only  a  moderate  allowance  and  a  collar  of  pearls 
worth  ten  thousand  écus. 

But  shortly  after  her  marriage  she  had  an  apart¬ 
ment  at  Versailles,  where  her  beauty  did  not  fail 
to  excite  enthusiasm.  Saint-Simon,  who  did  not 
admire  too  readil}^  exclaims  concerning  her:  “Never 
was  there  a  visage  so  intelligent,  so  affecting,  never 
such  grace  and  wit,  never  such  gaiety  and  amuse¬ 
ment,  never  was  a  creature  more  attractive.” 

The  eulogies  of  the  Abbé  de  Choisy  are  not  less 
expressive:  “Mirth  and  laughter  beamed  around 
her;  her  mind  was  still  more  amiable  than  her  vis¬ 
age  ;  .  .  .  and  if  her  natural  gaiety  had  permitted 
her  to  retrench  certain  little  airs  rather  too  coquet- 


THE  MARQUISE  BE  CAYLUS 


147 


tish,  which  all  her  innocence  could  not  justify,  she 
would  have  been  a  perfect  person.” 

Madame  de  Caylus  was  one  of  the  heroines  of 
those  representations  of  Esther  which  continue  to 
be  one  of  the  most  pleasing  episodes  of  the  second 
half  of  the  great  reign. 

In  1685  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  founded  at 
Saint-Cyr,  quite  close  to  Versailles,  a  house  for  the 
gratuitous  education  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  noble 
but  poor  young  girls.  Religion  and  literature  were 
both  in  high  esteem  there.  Some  of  the  pupils  of 
the  senior  class  —  the  blues  —  had  declaimed  Cinna^ 
Andromaque^  and  Iphigénie^  in  presence  of  their 
companions.  But  it  was  soon  perceived  that  they 
were  but  too  well  inclined  to  the  business,  especially 
for  the  recitation  of  the  love  scenes.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  wrote  to  Racine  :  “  Our  little  ones  have 
just  been  playing  your  Andromaque,  and  have  played 
it  so  well  that  they  shall  never  play  it  again,  nor 
any  other  of  your  pieces.” 

But  though  tragedy  was  proscribed,  poetry  was 
by  no  means  forsaken.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who 
admired  Racine  greatly,  begged  him  to  compose  a 
sort  of  moral  and  historical  poem  for  Saint-Cyr  from 
which  human  love  should  be  rigorously  excluded. 
This  was  in  1688.  Racine  was  nearly  fifty,  and  had 
renounced  the  theatre  twelve  years  before,  being 
then  in  the  plenitude  of  genius  and  inspiration. 
Religious  scruples  had  driven  him  from  the  stage, 
and  he  had  offered  to  God  the  most  painful  sacrifice 


148 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


possible  to  au  artist:  that  of  his  renown.  This 
great  poet  had  condemned  himself  to  silence,  and 
with  his  own  hands  taken  the  coursers  from  the 
triumphal  chariot  which  drew  him  through  the 
starry  spheres  of  art.  He  trembled  with  joy  when 
he  saw  a  means  of  reconciling  his  former  inclina¬ 
tions  with  the  sentiments  which  had  turned  him 
away  from  them.  The  poet  and  the  devotee  were 
at  last  to  come  to  terms.  Esther  was  the  fruit  of 
their  alliance,  that  exquisite  work  which  is  akin 
both  to  tragedy  and  elegy,  that  poem  full  of  tender¬ 
ness  and  tears  which  is  worthy  of  the  poet  of  whom 
his  son  said  :  “  My  father  was  a  man  all  senti¬ 
ment,  all  feeling.”  Aroused  as  it  were  from  a  long 
slumber,  Racine  had  drawn  from  this  repose  a  fresh¬ 
ness  of  impressions,  a  new  originality.  “  At  fifteen 
years  old,”  says  M.  Michelet,  “Madame  de  Caylus 
saw  the  birth  of  Esther,  inhaled  its  first  perfume, 
and  understood  its  spirit  so  well  that  she  seemed,  by 
the  emotion  of  her  voice,  to  add  somewhat  to  it.” 

It  was  not  originally  intended  that  she  should 
play  any  part  in  it.  But  one  day  when  Racine  was 
about  to  read  several  of  the  scenes  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  she  began  to  declaim  them  in  so  moving 
a  style  that  the  enthusiastic  poet  composed  a  pro¬ 
logue,  that  of  Piety,  expressly  for  her. 

The  first  representation  was  given  at  Saint-Cyr, 
January  26,  1689.  The  vestibule  of  the  dormitories, 
situated  on  the  second  floor  of  the  pupils’  great  stair¬ 
case,  was  divided  into  two  parts,  one  for  the  stage, 


THE  MARQUISE  DE  CAYEU  S 


149 


and  the  other  for  the  spectators.  Two  amphitheatres 
had  been  erected  at  the  side  of  the  room,  a  small  one 
for  the  ladies  of  the  community,  and  a  larger  one  for 
the  pupils.  The  smallest  children,  the  reds,  were 
on  the  highest  row  of  seats,  then  came  the  greens, 
the  yellows,  and  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  oldest  girls, 
the  blues,  all  wearing  ribbons  of  their  class  colors. 
The  play  was  given  in  the  daytime,  but  all  the  win¬ 
dows  had  been  closed,  and  the  stairways,  passages, 
and  the  hall  itself  glittered  with  lights  in  crystal 
chandeliers.  Between  the  two  amphitheatres  were 
seats  for  the  King,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and 
several  spectators  admitted  as  an  exceptional  favor 
to  the  honor  of  applauding  Esther. 

Louis  XIV.  arrived  at  three  o’clock  in  the  after¬ 
noon,  and  the  piece  began  a  few  minutes  later. 
Madame  de  Caylus  recited  her  prologue  in  an  affect¬ 
ing  and  melodious  voice  which  excited  a  buzz  of 
enthusiastic  emotion  in  the  noble  audience.  Her 
seventeen  years,  her  pure  tones,  her  tender  and  ideal 
beauty,  made  her  seem  like  an  angel.  From  the  first 
lines  of  the  prologue  success  was  assured.  Louis 
XIV.  felt  himself  rejuvenated.  Here  at  last  was  a 
diversion  worthy  of  the  great  King.  How  easily 
one  pictures  to  himself  this  half-pious,  half-profane 
animation;  these  naïve  and  charming  young  girls 
who  say  a  Veni  Creator  before  they  go  on  the  stage  ; 
these  improvised  actresses  who  are  electrified  by  the 
music,  the  poetry,  the  footlights,  and,  still  more 
than  all  these,  by  the  presence  of  him  who  is  their 


150 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


protector,  their  earthly  Providence!  The  greatest 
of  kings  in  the  house  ;  the  greatest  of  poets  in  the 
greenroom;  actresses  who  vie  with  each  other  in 
tenderness  and  grace  ;  verses  altogether  noble,  ideal, 
and  harmonious;  choirs  whose  celestial  melody  is 
the  hymn  of  prayer,  the  canticle  of  divine  love;  a 
splendid  Mise  en  scène  ;  admirable  decorations  ;  Per¬ 
sian  costumes  glittering  Avith  the  croAvn  jewels,  and, 
still  more  alluring  than  even  the  prestige  of  the 
throne  and  the  beams  of  the  royal  sun,  the  charm  of 
youth,  the  freshness  of  imaginations,  the  sweet  and 
penetrating  poetry  of  the  souls  of  young  girls,  — ■ 
Avhat  a  spectacle,  what  an  intoxication!  Esther  is 
played  by  Mademoiselle  de  Veilhan,  Elise  by  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  Maisonfort,  Assuêrus  by  Mademoiselle 
Lastic,  Mmœîi  by  Mademoiselle  d’Abancourt,  Zares  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Marsilly,  Hydaspe  by  Mademoiselle 
de  Mornay.  The  rôle  of  Mardochêe  is  played  to 
perfection  by  Mademoiselle  de  Glapion,  that  young 
person  who  caused  Racine  to  say:  “I  have  found  a 
Mardochêe  whose  voice  goes  to  one’s  very  heart.” 

The  poet  is  behind  the  scenes  acting  as  stage  man¬ 
ager.  Mademoiselle  de  Maisonfort,  who  is  fright¬ 
ened,  has  had  a  momentary  failure  of  memory. 
When  she  returns  to  the  greenroom,  he  says  to  her: 
“Ah!  Mademoiselle,  here  is  a  piece  spoiled.”  The 
beautiful  young  girl  at  once  begins  to  cry;  Racine 
consoles  her  and  pulling  out  his  handkerchief  wipes 
her  eyes,  as  one  would  do  for  an  infant.  She  returns 
to  the  stage  and  plays  like  a  finished  actress.  Her 


TUE  MARQUISE  DE  CAYLUS 


151 


eyes  are  somewhat  red  still,  and  Louis  XIV.,  whom 
nothing  escapes,  whispers  :  “  The  little  canoness  has 
been  crying.” 

Madame  de  Maintenon  can  hardly  conceal  her  joy 
at  the  success  of  her  dear  children.  Louis  XIV., 
touched  and  enraptured,  grants  his  approbation,  the 
most  precious  of  rewards,  to  the  poet  and  the  ac¬ 
tresses,  and  when  the  representation  is  ended,  Racine, 
“who  loves  God  as  he  formerly  loved  his  mis¬ 
tresses,”^  hastens  to  the  chapel  and  falls  on  his 
knees  in  a  transport  of  gratitude. 

The  succeeding  representations  are  still  more 
brilliant  than  the  first.  Madame  de  Caylus  takes 
the  part  of  Esther  and  surpasses  herself  in  it.  A 
childish  divertisement,  as  Racine  said  himself,  at¬ 
tracts  the  eager  attention  of  Æe  whole  court.  The 
favor  of  an  invitation  is  more  desired  and  more  dif¬ 
ficult  to  obtain  than  that  of  a  journey  to  Marly. 
Louis  XIV.  enters  first,  and  stands  at  the  threshold, 
cane  in  hand,  until  all  the  guests  are  in  the  hall. 
Madame  de  Sévigné,  who  is  admitted  to  the  repre¬ 
sentation  of  February  19,  1689,  cannot  contain  her 
joy.  She  sits  next  to  Marshal  de  Bellefonds,  to 
whom  she  communicates  her  enthusiastic  impres¬ 
sions  in  an  undertone.  The  marshal  rises  between 
the  acts  and  goes  to  tell  the  King  how  pleased  he  is. 
“I  am  near  a  lady,”  he  adds,  “avIio  is  very  worthy 
of  having  seen  Esther.'" 


1  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  of  February  7,  1689. 


152 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


At  the  close  of  the  performance  Louis  XIV. 
addresses  a  few  words  to  several  of  the  spectators. 
He  stops  in  front  of  Madame  de  Sévigné  and  speaks 
kindly  to  her. 

The  Marquise,  quite  proud  of  such  an  honor,  has 
mentioned  this  conversation  in  one  of  her  letters  : 
“  The  King  said  to  me,  ‘  Madame,  I  am  sure  you 
have  been  pleased.  Racine  has  a  great  deal  of 
genius.’  Without  showing  surprise  I  answer,  ‘  Sire, 
he  has  a  great  deal;  but,  truly,  these  young  people 
have  a  great  deal  also  ;  they  enter  into  the  subject 
as  if  they  had  never  done  anything  else.’  ‘  Ah  !  as 
for  that,  it  is  true.’  —  And  then  His  Majesty  moved 
away,  leaving  me  the  object  of  envy.” 

Is  not  that  last  word  characteristic?  The  most 
superior  woman  in  the  kingdom  is  beside  herself 
with  joy  because  the  King  has  spoken  with  her. 
What  a  prestige  had  this  incomparable  monarch, 
the  least  mark  of  attention  from  whom  made  the 
whole  court  envious  ! 

The  success  of  Esther  had  been  too  great.  Criti¬ 
cism,  motived  either  by  piety  or  jealousy,  soon  began 
to  attack  these  representations  which  had  been  so 
brilliant.  The  genius  of  the  poet  and  the  talent  of 
the  actresses  had  to  be  recognized  of  course,  whether 
willingly  or  unwillingly.  The  criticism  was  aimed 
at  other  points.  It  was  said  that  this  blending  of 
the  cloister  and  the  theatre  was  not  a  good  thing, 
that  the  self-love,  and  perhaps  even  the  coquettish 
instincts  of  the  young  girls,  would  be  over-excited 


THE  MARQUISE  DE  CAYLUS 


153 


by  such  divertisements.  Bourdaloue  and  Bossuet 
had  been  present  at  the  representations  as  if  to  mark 
their  approval  in  that  manner.  But  Madame  de 
Maintenon’s  new  director,  Godez-Desmaretz,  Bishop 
of  Chartres,  decided  against  these  ostentatious  exhi¬ 
bitions  of  the  pupils  of  Saint-Cyr.  Hence  they  were 
put  an  end  to,  and  Athalie,  which  had  been  called 
for  after  the  success  of  Esther,  and  already  learned 
by  the  young  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr,  was  given,  in  1690, 
mthout  display,  without  scenes,  decorations,  or  cos¬ 
tumes,  in  the  blue  class-room,  with  only  the  King, 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  some  dozen  others  as 
spectators. 

The  representations  of  Esther  were  not  all  that 
was  considered  too  worldly.  The  young  woman 
who  had  been  so  much  admired  in  it,  Madame  de 
Caylus,  did  not  remain  long  in  favor  at  court.  Her 
wit  and  gaiety,  the  freedom  of  her  manners  and 
speech,  were  too  excessive  not  to  entail  disgrace. 
This  witty  and  charming  Marquise,  who  was  not 
yet  twenty,  was  devout  at  her  prayers.  Like  the 
majority  of  exceptionally  intelligent  women,  like 
the  Longuevilles,  the  Montespans,  the  Sévignés,  she 
was  divided  between  God  and  the  world.  But,  un¬ 
fortunately,  the  world  got  much  the  larger  share. 
With  Madame  de  Caylus  pleasures  took  precedence 
over  prayers.  Her  mobile,  caustic,  somewhat  super¬ 
ficial  character  did  not  incline  to  the  austerities 
of  a  profound  devotion. 

There  was  the  stuff  for  a  great  actress  in  her 


154 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


rather  than  a  vocation  to  religion,  and  when  she 
saw  the  court  assuming  the  manners  of  the  cloister 
she  found  herself  a  trifle  out  of  place.  Married  to 
a  man  of  no  merit,  who  was  always  with  his  regi¬ 
ment,  on  campaigns  or  at  the  frontier,  she  easily 
consoled  herself  for  his  absence,  and  contracted  a 
liaison  with  the  Duke  de  Villeroy,  which  made  a 
scandal.  Fond  of  gossip,  if  not  of  calumny,  not 
afraid  to  provoke  enmity  for  the  sake  of  a  witty 
speech,  accustomed  to  the  society  and  the  mischiev¬ 
ous  pranks  of  the  Duchess  de  Bourbon,  who,  with 
less  wit,  had  all  the  satiric  tendencies  of  her  mother, 
Madame  de  Montespan,  Madame  de  Caylus  was 
inclined  to  scoff  at  everything.  That  was  a  sort 
of  pastime  which  Louis  XJV.  knew  not  how  to 
pardon.  This  audacious  young  person  had  been 
imprudent  enough  to  say,  in  speaking  of  the  court  : 
“  This  place  is  so  dull  that  it  is  like  an  exile  to  live 
here.” 

The  King  took  her  at  her  word,  and  forbade  her 
to  appear  again  in  the  place  she  found  so  tiresome. 
She  seemed  to  him  affected  and  coquettish.  He 
thought  her  too  keen,  too  acute,  too  ready  to  use 
that  weapon  of  ridicule  which  is  so  deadly  when 
wielded  by  the  little  hand  of  a  pretty  woman.  He 
was  even  of  the  opinion  that  this  futile  education 
did  not  greatly  redound  to  the  credit  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  who  on  her  part  had  no  interest  in 
keeping  near  the  King  a  young  woman  who  might 
injure  Saint-Cyr,  Hence  the  disgrace  of  Madame 


THE  MARQUISE  DE  CAY  LU  S 


155 


de  Caylus  was  of  long  duration.  She  remained  away 
from  the  court  for  thirteen  years  as  a  sort  of  pen¬ 
ance,  and  only  obtained  forgiveness  through  good 
behavior,  submission,  and  piety.  But  the  pardon 
was  complete. 

She  reappeared  at  Versailles,  February  10,  1707, 
at  the  King’s  supper,  and  received  a  cordial  welcome. 
She  was  only  thirty-three,  had  been  a  widow  for 
about  two  years,  and  did  not  intend  to  marry  again. 
Beautiful  as  an  angel  and  more  charming  than  ever, 
she  entirely  regained  the  favor  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  whose  assiduous  companion  she  became,  and 
remained  at  the  palace  until  the  death  of  Louis  XIV. 
After  that  she  returned  to  Paris,  where  she  occupied 
a  small  house  contiguous  to  the  Luxembourg  gardens. 
There  she  gave  suppers  to  great  nobles  and  men  of 
learning,  and  her  salon  was  an  intellectual  centre, 
where  the  traditions  of  the  seventeenth  century  were 
perpetuated  into  the  first  years  of  the  eighteenth. 
There  she  died  in  1729,  aged  only  fifty-six. 

Some  months  earlier  she  had  written,  under  the 
modest  title  of  Souvenirs,  the  brief  and  witty  memoirs 
which  will  make  her  name  immortal.  Her  friends, 
enchanted  by  her  lively  wit,  had  long  entreated  her 
to  write  out,  not  for  the  public,  but  for  them,  the 
anecdotes  which  she  related  so  well.  In  the  end  she 
acquiesced,  and  committed  to  paper  certain  incidents, 
certain  portraits.  What  a  treasure  are  these  Souve¬ 
nirs,  so  fluently  written,  so  unpretentious,  with  neither 
dates  nor  chronological  order,  but  upon  which  all  his- 


156 


THE  WOMEN  OB'  VERSAILLES 


torians  have  drawn  for  more  than  a  century  !  ^  How 
much  is  contained  in  this  little  book,  which  teaches 
more  in  a  few  lines  than  interminable  works  in  many 
volumes  !  How  feminine  it  is,  and  how  French  ! 
One  readily  understands  Voltaire’s  liking  for  these 
charming  Souvenirs.  Who  ever  applied  better  than 
Madame  de  Caylus  the  famous  precept  :  “  Go  lightly, 
mortals  ;  don’t  bear  on  too  hard  ”  ? 

She  belonged  to  that  race  of  spontaneous  writers 
who  produce  artistic  works  without  knowing  it,  just 
as  M.  Jourdain  wrote  prose,  and  who  do  not  even 
suspect  that  they  possess  that  chief  attribute  of  style  : 
naturalness.  What  pure,  what  ready,  wit!  What 
good  humor,  what  unconstraint,  what  delightful  ease  ! 
What  a  charming  series  of  portraits,  each  more  life¬ 
like,  more  animated,  still  better  than  all  the  others  I 
These  little  miniatures  due  to  the  brush  of  a  woman 
of  the  world  are  better  worth  studying  than  many  a 
picture  or  fresco. 


1  The  Souvenirs  de  Madame  de  Caylus,  which  were  never  com¬ 
pleted,  remained  in  manuscript  during  her  life  and  long  after  her 
death.  They  were  first  printed  at  Amsterdam,  in  1770,  with  a 
preface  and  notes  attributed  to  Voltaire. 


X 

MADAMK  DE  MAINTENON  AND  THE  GENTLEWOMEN 
OF  SAINT-CYR 

The  figure  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  is  framed 
in  the  house  of  Saint-Cyr  like  that  of  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  La  Vallière  in  the  Carmelite  convent  of 
rue  Saint-Jacques.  We  see  the  spouse  of  Louis  XIV. 
in  her  true  light  when  she  is  surrounded  by  the 
nuns  and  the  pupils  of  an  asylum  where  the  idea  of 
religion  is  blended  with  that  of  nobility,  and  which 
makes  room  for  both  earth  and  heaven,  for  the  world 
and  for  God.  Saint-Cyr  is  the  veritable  offspring 
of  this  wife  who  was  not  a  mother  ;  it  is  here  that  a 
heart  far  less  barren,  less  egotistic  than  is  believed, 
expends  what  remains  to  her  of  emotional  strength 
and  tenderness. 

In  this  pious  abode  Madame  de  Maintenon  experi¬ 
ences  the  charm  of  compassion,  edification,  melan¬ 
choly.  From  this  point  she  contemplates,  through 
the  mists  of  the  past,  her  own  eventful  and  astonish¬ 
ing  career.  Here  she  listens  with  emotion  to  the 
remote  echo  of  the  stormy  floods  which  beat  against 
her  cradle,  troubled  her  youth,  and  which  even  now 

167 


TUE  }VOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


l.)8 


often  disturb  ber  age.  When  she  sees  so  manj^ 
doweiiess  young  girls,  slie  recalls  the  time  when  she 
was  poor  and  forsaken  in  spite  of  her  illustrious 
birth.  She  reflects  on  what  intelligence,  ability,  and 
courage  the  grand-daughter  of  Théodore  Agrippa 
d’Aubigné  needed  in  order  to  struggle  against  pov¬ 
erty.  She  remembers  the  snares  laid  for  her  by  the 
spirit  of  evil,  the  illusions  of  the  girl  and  the  young 
woman,  from  which  her  lofty  intelligence  and  good 
sense  preserved  her  ;  she  summarizes  the  lessons 
suggested  by  her  experience.  In  this  chapel  whose 
silence  is  undisturbed  by  the  worldly  murmur  of 
courtiers,  more  occupied  with  the  King  than  with 
God,  she  reflects  on  all  the  intrigues,  vanities,  and 
deceptions  of  the  court.  In  this  calm  abode,  where 
monastic  gravity  is  softened  by  the  graces  of  child¬ 
hood  and  youth,  she  reflects  on  the  morning  of  life 
and  its  evening,  on  the  cradle  and  the  grave.  For 
Madame  de  Main  tenon  there  is  a  sort  of  living 
antithesis  between  Versailles  and  Saint-Cyi’:  Ver¬ 
sailles  is  agitation,  Saint-Cyr  repose.  Versailles  is 
tlie  world  with  its  torments,  follies,  and  ambitions  ; 
Saint-Cyr  is  the  vestibule  of  heaven.  Hence,  how 
greatly  she  prefers  her  beloved  convent  to  the  marble 
court,  the  apartments  of  the  King,  the  Gallery  of 
Mirrors,  the  splendors  of  the  finest  palace  of  the 
universe  ! 

“  Long  live  Saint-Cyr  !  ”  she  exclaims  ;  “  long  live 
Saint-Cyr  !  In  spite  of  its  defects  one  is  better  off 
there  than  in  any  other  place  in  the  world.  .  .  . 


MABA^fE  BE  MAIETEEUN 


159 


When  Saint-Cyr  is  in  question,  I  am  always  de¬ 
lighted.”  She  is  quieted  and  consoled  when  she 
enters  her  dear  asylum.  “  When  I  see  the  door  close 
after  me  on  entering  this  solitude  whence  I  never 
depart  without  pain,  I  am  full  of  joy.”  And  when 
she  returns  to  Versailles,  she  feels  a  contraction  of  the 
heart,  a  kind  of  anguish. 

“  I  experience,”  she  says  again,  “  a  sentiment  of 
horror  at  the  sight  of  Versailles;  what  is  called  the 
world  is  there  ;  it  is  its  centre  ;  there  all  the  passions 
are  in  action  :  interest,  ambition,  envy,  and  pleasure.” 

Madame  de  Maintenon’s  preference  for  Saint-Cyr, 
which  is  her  work,  her  creation,  the  very  symbol  of 
her  thought,  is,  moreover,  very  easily  explained.  It 
is  there,  in  fact,  that  her  character,  with  its  love  of 
domination,  her  high  intelligence,  her  talent  for  writ¬ 
ing  and  speaking,  her  aptitude  for  government,  are 
manifested.  It  must  be  owned  that  it  is  not  religion 
alone  which  makes  her  prefer  the  convent  to  the 
palace.  At  Versailles  she  is  constrained,  incom¬ 
moded,  she  obeys  ;  the  rays  of  the  royal  sun,  though 
paler  than  they  were,  have  still  a  prestige  and  a 
brilliancy  which  intimidate  her.  At  Saint-Cyr  she 
is  free,  she  commands  and  governs.  Like  Cæsar, 
who  said  he  would  prefer  to  be  the  chief  in  a  village 
than  the  second  in  Rome,  Madame  de  Maintenon 
finds  it  pleasanter  to  be  the  superior  of  nuns  than 
to  be  the  companion  of  a  king.  At  Versailles  she 
possibly  regrets  the  crown  and  the  ermine  mantle 
which  are  lacking  to  her.  She  has  no  need  of  them 


160 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


at  Saint-Cyr,  for  there  her  sovereignty  is  uncontested. 
Her  lightest  words  are  accepted  as  oracles.  Her 
letters,  read  with  respectful  emotion  in  presence  of 
the  whole  community,  are  universally  admired.  The 
inmates  or  the  pupils  to  whom  they  are  addressed 
boast  of  them  as  titles  of  glory.  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non  is  almost  the  queen  of  France.  She  is  absolutely 
queen  of  Saint-Cyr. 

The  educational  house  of  Saint-Cyr,  which  was 
opened  August  2,  1686,  contained  two  hundred  and 
fifty  young  girls  of  noble  birth  who  had  no  fortunes. 
During  thirty  years  this  religious  establishment  was 
Madame  de  Maintenon’s  principal  occupation.  She 
went  there  every  other  day  at  least,  arriving  some¬ 
times  by  six  o’clock  in  the  morning,  going  from  class 
to  class,  combing  and  dressing  the  little  girls,  edify¬ 
ing  and  instructing  the  larger  ones,  and  preferring 
her  rôle  as  teacher  to  all  the  amusements  and  splen¬ 
dors  of  Versailles.  Nothing  that  related  to  Saint- 
Cyr  seemed  to  her  troublesome  or  disagreeable. 
“  Our  ladies,”  said  she,  “  are  children  who  will  not 
be  able  for  a  long  while  to  rule  others;  I  offer 
myself  to  serve  them  :  I  shall  have  no  difficulty  in 
being  their  steward,  their  woman  of  business,  and 
with  all  my  heart  their  servant,  providing  that  my 
cares  put  them  in  a  condition  to  dispense  with  me.” 

The  ladies  of  Saint  Louis,  as  the  inmates  of  the 
establishment  of  Saint-Cyr  were  called,  had  an  hour’s 
recreation  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  which  they 
usually  spent  around  a  large  table,  conversing  freely 


MADAME  DE  MAINTEEON 


lÜl 


while  employed  in  needlework.  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  loved  to  come  to  these  recreations.  She 
brought  her  work,  and  indulged  in  those  familiar 
talks  of  hers,  at  once  so  witty  and  so  edifying,  whose 
instructive  charm  was  so  well  appreciated  by  the 
community. 

In  September,  1686,  the  King,  after  recovering  from 
an  illness,  went  to  visit  Saint-Cyr.  The  ladies  chanted 
the  Te  Deum,  the  Domine  salvum  fao  regem,  and 
Lulli’s  hymn  :  Grand  Dieu,  Sauvez  le  roi.  Vengez  le 
roi,  the  air  of  which  has  been  borrowed  from  France 
by  the  English  for  their  God  save  the  King.  Louis 
XIV.  was  pleased  with  these  fresh  faces,  these  hearts 
filled  with  grateful  emotion.  When  he  returned  to 
his  carriage,  he  said  kindly  to  Madame  de  Maintenon  : 
“  I  thank  you,  Madame,  for  all  the  pleasure  you  have 
given  me.” 

In  1689  he  said  to  the  ladies  of  Saint  Louis  :  “  I 
am  not  eloquent  enough  to  exhort  you  very  well  ; 
but  I  hope  that  by  dint  of  repeating  to  you  the 
motives  of  this  foundation,  I  shall  convince  and  per¬ 
suade  you  to  be  always  faithful  to  it.  I  will  spare 
neither  my  visits  nor  my  words,  little  calculated  as  I 
think  them  to  produce  this  beautiful  result.” 

“What  should  give  pleasure  to  Your  Majesty,” 
replied  Madame  de  Maintenon,  “  is  that  most  of  the 
young  persons  who  will  leave  here  will  live  and  die 
in  innocence,  and  that  a  number  of  them  will  conse¬ 
crate  their  whole  lives  to  God.” 

“  Ah  I  ”  said  the  King,  “  if  I  could  only  give  as 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


hi  2 


many  such  to  God  as  I  have  torn  from  Him  by  my 
bad  example  !  ” 

For  Louis  XIV.  Saint-Cyr  was  a  consolation  and 
an  expiation,  a  patriotic  and  religious  work,  a  homage 
to  God  and  to  France.  “What  pleases  me  in  the 
ladies  of  Saint-Cyr,”  said  he,  “  is  that  they  love  the 
State  although  they  hate  the  world  :  they  are  good 
sisters  and  good  Frenchwomen.” 

In  order  to  gain  the  blessing  of  heaven  on  his 
arms  he  recommended  himself  to  the  angels  of  Saint- 
Cyr  at  the  beginning  of  every  campaign,  thinking 
that  their  prayers  must  be  powerful  in  paradise.  On 
returning  from  the  siege  of  Mons,  in  April,  1691,  he 
repaired  to  the  holy  asylum  where  his  soul  found 
repose  from  the  emotions  of  politics  and  war.  One 
of  the  young  girls  reproached  him  for  having  exposed 
himself  too  much  during  the  siege.  “  I  did  nothing 
but  what  I  ought,”  he  returned.  —  “  But  the  welfare 
of  the  State,”  said  she,  “  depends  on  the  preservation 
of  your  person.”  —  “Places  like  mine,”  replied  the 
King,  “  never  remain  empty  :  some  one  else  would 
fill  it  better  than  I.” 

As  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  her  devotion  to 
Saint-Cyr  amounted  to  enthusiasm.  “  Sanctify  your 
house,”  said  she  to  the  ladies  of  Saint  Louis,  “and 
through  your  house  the  whole  kingdom.  I  would 
give  my  blood  to  be  able  to  communicate  the  educa¬ 
tion  of  Saint-Cyr  to  all  religious  houses  which  bring 
up  young  girls.  In  comparison  with  Saint-Cyr  every¬ 
thing  else  is  foreign  to  me,  and  my  nearest  relatives 


MADAME  UE  MAISTESÜN 


1Ü3 


are  less  clear  to  me  than  the  least  one  of  the  good 
(laughters  of  the  community.” 

She  is  like  the  queen  bee.  Not  content  with 
prayer,  she  labors.  Her  pen  and  her  needle  are  alike 
active.  While  chatting  over  her  embroidery,  she 
gives  veritable  sermons  which  would  not  be  unwor¬ 
thy  of  great  preachers.  She  delineates  in  excellent 
style,  not  merely  the  portraits  of  nuns,  but  those  of 
mothers  of  families.  “  I  know  some,”  she  says,  “  who 
are  esteemed,  respected,  and  admired  by  everybody  ; 
their  husbands  are  so  charmed  with  them  that  they 
say  with  admiration,  ‘  I  find  everything  in  my  wife. 
She  serves  me  as  steward,  manager,  and  governess 
for  my  children.’  ” 

Speaking  to  the  novices,  she  exclaims  :  “  Consider 
that  there  is  no  one  on  earth  so  happy  as  a  good 
sister,  nor  any  one  so  unhappy  and  despicable  as 
a  bad  one.  To  be  silent,  to  suffer,  not  to  make 
others  suffer,  to  love  God  with  a  heart  filled  with  all 
He  desires  that  we  should  love,  to  endure  the  imper¬ 
fections  of  others  but  not  our  own,  to  be  neither 
pleased  nor  discouraged  with  ourselves,  to  rely  on 
nothing  but  the  cross,  and  to  yield  nothing  to  self- 
love  under  whatever  pretext  of  innocent  consolation, 
—  that  is  the  kingdom  of  God  which  commences  here 
below.  You  will  have  no  happiness  save  in  yielding 
yourselves  unreservedly  to  God  and  in  bearing  the 
yoke  of  religion  with  a  simple  courage  which  will 
make  it  light  and  easy.” 

These  young  girls  whose  hearts  are  so  innocent. 


164 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


whose  voices  so  fresh  and  pure,  these  melodious  and 
affecting  chants,  this  poetry  of  prayer,  this  perfume 
of  incense,  are  all  entrancing  to  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non.  “Pray  without  ceasing,”  she  says  to  the  ladies 
of  Saint  Louis.  “  Pray  while  you  are  walking,  writ¬ 
ing,  spinning,  working.  .  .  .  Some  time  ago  I  saw 
our  demoiselles  folding  the  linen  with  an  activity 
Avhich  left  them  no  leisure  to  think  or  to  feel  dull. 
They  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  they  began 
to  sing  hymns.  I  admired  the  innocence  of  their 
life  and  your  happiness  in  averting  so  many  sins  by 
restraining  so  great  a  number  of  young  persons  at  so 
dangerous  an  age.” 

In  growing  old,  Madame  de  Maintenon  has  become 
austere.  “  Flee  from  men,”  she  says,  “  as  from  your 
mortal  enemies.  Never  be  alone  with  them.  Take 
no  pleasure  in  hearing  that  you  are  pretty,  amiable, 
or  have  a  fine  voice.  The  world  is  a  malignant 
deceiver  which  seldom  means  what  it  says  ;  and  the 
majority  of  men  who  say  such  things  as  these  to  girls 
do  it,  hoping  to  find  some  means  of  ruining  them.” 

Satiated  and  disillusioned  by  earthly  vanities,  she 
wishes  to  inspire  others  with  her  disgust  for  human 
grandeurs.  She  says  to  the  pupils  of  Saint-Cyr, 
with  the  accent  of  conviction:  “Princes  and  prin¬ 
cesses  are  seldom  contented  anywhere,  and  are  tired 
of  everything.  They  never  find  pleasures,  because 
they  are  always  seeking  them  ;  they  go  from  palace 
to  palace,  to  Meudon,  to  Marly,  to  Kambouillet,  to 
Fontainebleau,  with  the  intention  of  diverting  them- 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON 


165 


selves.  These  are  admirable  places  which  it  would 
enchant  you  to  see  ;  but  they  are  dull  there  because 
one  grows  accustomed  to  everything,  and  in  the  long 
run,  the  most  beautiful  things  become  indifferent, 
and  cease  to  give  pleasure.  Besides,  it  is  not  such 
things  as  these  which  can  make  us  happy.  Our 
happiness  can  come  only  from  within.”  ^ 

When  she  speaks  to  these  young  gentlewomen  of 
marriage,  it  is  invariably  with  a  sort  of  sad  repug¬ 
nance.  M.  Lavallée  has  made  a  very  judicious  reflec¬ 
tion  on  this  subject.  “  This,”  he  says,  “  doubtless 
arose  from  the  two  extraordinary  marriages  she  had 
made.  If  at  twenty  she  had  married  a  young  man 
whom  she  loved  and  by  whom  she  had  had  children, 
it  is  probable  that  she  would  have  thought  and 
spoken  otherwise.” 

As  one  of  the  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr  has  said,  Madame 
de  Maintenon’s  discourses  were  “  lively,  simple,  natu¬ 
ral,  intelligent,  insinuating,  and  persuasive.”  She 
analyzed  herself  with  the  same  impartiality  with 
which  she  judged  the  qualities  and  the  defects  of  her 
neighbor.  Her  talks  were  like  a  perpetual  examina¬ 
tion  of  conscience,  a  continuous  meditation,  a  demon¬ 
stration  of  the  inanity  and  nothingness  of  human 
grandeurs  by  a  woman  who  knew  them  the  most 
thoroughly. 

Austere  and  admirable  instructions!  But  were  all 
the  young  girls  in  a  condition  to  understand  them  ? 
We  fancy  that  more  than  one  of  them  is  only  half 
convinced.  Perhaps  there  are  some  who  say  that, 


166 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


after  all,  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  not  always  so 
scornful  of  the  world  ;  that  she  loved  it  well  enough 
to  prefer  Scarron  to  a  convent,  and  that  she,  more 
than  any  other  woman,  has  been  flattered  by  distinc¬ 
tions  and  eulogies  ;  that  in  her  youth  she  was  proud 
enough  of  her  successes  in  the  brilliant  salons  of  the 
hotel  d’Albret  or  the  hôtel  de  Richelieu.  Among 
the  gentlewomen  of  Saint-Cyr  there  are  doubtless,  at 
the  side  of  real  saints,  some  young  girls  of  ardent 
imaginations  whom  the  dread  of  storms  does  not  dis¬ 
gust  with  the  ocean,  and  who,  in  despite  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon’s  sage  counsels,  dream  of  trusting  them¬ 
selves  to  its  waves  in  a  bark  decked  with  festoons 
and  flowers.  We  are  seldom  impressed  by  the  expe¬ 
rience  of  others.  It  is  our  own  disappointments,  our 
own  sufferings,  that  interest  us.  Madame  de  Mainte¬ 
non  is  well  aware  of  this,  and  yet  it  does  not  deter 
her  from  her  pious  exhortations.  “  Why  cannot  I 
unveil  my  heart  to  all  sisters,”  she  cries,  “so  that 
they  might  feel  the  whole  worth  of  their  vocation  ! 
What  would  I  not  give  to  make  them  see  as  fully  as 
I  do  the  pleasures  by  which  we  seek  to  shorten  the 
dream  of  life  !  ”  In  recapitulating  her  entire  career, 
this  chosen  woman,  whose  mind  is  so  observing,  so 
practical,  and  judicious,  arrives  at  conclusions  which 
are  all  on  the  side  of  virtue,  religion,  and  God  ;  and 
the  sacred  asylum  where  she  has  already  designated 
her  place  of  burial  inspires  her  with  none  but  sound 
thoughts  and  salutary  reflections, 


XI 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS 
{The  Princess  Palatine) 

NE  of  the  causes  which  made  Madame  de  Main- 


tenon  prefer  Saint-Cyr  to  Versailles,  was  that 
she  believed  herself  to  be  loved  at  Saint-Cyr,  while 
at  Versailles  she  felt  the  shafts  of  malevolence  and 
hatred  pierce  her  through  an  apparent  deference  and 
obsequious  protestations  of  devotion  and  respect. 
Certain  persons  who  saw  her  continually  and  mani¬ 
fested  the  greatest  regard  for  her,  detested  her  cor¬ 
dially,  and  her  profound  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart  made  her  always  aware  of  it.  Chief  among 
these  secret  antipathies  existing  in  a  latent  condition 
against  Madame  de  Maintenon,  must  be  reckoned 
the  violent  and  relentless  enmity  of  the  Princess 
Palatine,  the  second  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans. 

The  accusations  brought  against  the  wife  of  Louis 
XIV.  by  tliis  implacable  German  woman  are  so 
exaggerated  and  unlikely  that  on  the  whole  they 
redound  to  the  credit  of  her  at  whom  they  were 
aimed.  The  Amsterdam  libels,  the  Protestant  pam¬ 
phlets,  never  invented  such  enormities.  They  are  a 


167 


168 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


torrent  of  insults,  an  orgy  of  hatred,  the  slang  of  Bil- 
lingsgate  in  the  finest  palace  of  the  world.  They  are 
calumnies  Avhich  stop  at  nothing.  If  one  were  to 
believe  the  Princess  Palatine,  “  this  nasty  old  thing, 
this  wicked  devil,  this  filthy,  shrivelled-up  old  Main- 
tenon  ”  would  be  a  go-between,  a  procuress,  a  poisoner, 
a  Locusta. 

The  woman  who  gave  herself  up  to  such  furious 
diatribes  in  her  correspondence  is  assuredly  one  of 
the  most  singular  figures  in  the  feminine  gallery  of 
Versailles.  Her  physique,  her  mind,  her  style,  her 
character,  all  bear  a  stamp  that  is  unique.  Resem¬ 
bling  no  one  else  and  contrasting  strongly  with  all 
who  surround  her,  she  serves  as  a  kind  of  set-off  to 
the  fine  and  delicate  beauties  of  her  time.  To  our 
mind,  no  woman  has  shown  herself  more  fully  in  her 
letters  than  the  Princess  Palatine.  She  is  all  there 
with  her  defects  and  her  qualities,  her  curious  mixture 
of  austere  morals  and  cynical  language,  the  haughty 
ways  of  a  great  lady  and  the  expressions  of  a  woman 
of  the  people,  her  pretended  disdain  for  human 
grandeurs,  and  her  fierce  passion  for  the  prerogatives 
of  her  rank. 

This  is  the  Princess  whose  portrait  has  been  so 
truthfully  painted  by  Saint-Simon  :  frank  and  up¬ 
right,  good  and  beneficent,  grand  in  all  her  manners, 
and  little  to  the  last  degree  in  all  that  concerns  what 
she  thinks  her  due.  A  woman  of  masculine  bearing, 
not  coquettish,  not  desirous  to  please,  honest  in  her 
morals  but  shameless  in  her  speech,  somewhat  rigid 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS 


169 


and  martial  in  her  character  and  tastes,  loving  dogs, 
horses,  and  the  chase,  hard  to  herself,  her  own  doctor 
in  case  she  is  a  trifle  indisposed,  able  to  walk  two 
full  leagues.  It  is  not  poetical,  sentimental,  dreamy 
Germany  which  her  very  original  type  represents  so 
exactly,  but  Germany  under  its  rustic,  almost  savage 
aspects,  its  energy  and  rudeness,  its  antiquated  preju¬ 
dices,  its  amalgam  of  simplicity  and  arrogance,  of 
credulity  and  pride. 

The  letters  of  the  Princess  Palatine  lose  much  of 
their  savor  when  translated  into  French.  It  is  only 
in  German  that  they  have  that  smack  of  terror,  that 
impulsiveness,  that  tone  now  cynical,  now  burlesque, 
which  is  their  chief  merit.  Exaggerated  and  passion¬ 
ate  as  they  are,  they  are  worth  consulting,  even  after 
the  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon.  Doubtless, 
Madame  has  none  of  the  genius  of  this  French 
Tacitus.  But  there  is  more  than  one  analogy  in 
their  styles  and  their  destinies.  They  are  both  of 
them  essentially  doubtful  witnesses,  for  each  was 
biassed  and  could  not  judge  impartially  in  cases  which 
nearly  concerned  their  spites  and  prejudices.  But 
neither  of  them  even  sought  to  hide  his  or  her  par¬ 
tiality. 

Hence  nothing  is  easier  than  to  And  the  truth 
which  underlies  their  falsehoods.  If  she  has  not  the 
genius  of  Saint-Simon,  Madame  has  his  wrath  and 
indignation  and  his  hatreds.  Like  him,  she  is  obliged 
to  receive  her  enemies  well,  to  put  continual  con¬ 
straint  on  herself,  to  liv«  with  the  bastards  whom  she 


170 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


execrates,  to  salute  the  morganatic  queen  whom  she 
has  a  horror  of.  She  is  an  honest  woman  as  he  is  an 
honest  man.  She  loves  right,  justice,  and  truth  as  he 
does.  Like  him,  she  writes  in  secret  and  consoles 
herself  for  a  perpetual  constraint  by  exaggerating 
the  liberty  of  style.  Like  him,  she  wreaks  her  ven¬ 
geance  by  means  of  pen  and  ink.  It  is  from  her 
curious  letters  that  we  shall  try  to  describe  her 
character. 

Daughter  of  the  Elector  Palatine  Charles-Louis 
and  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  of  Hesse-Cassel,  the 
second  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  born  at  the 
castle  of  Heidelberg.  As  a  child  she  preferred  guns 
to  dolls,  and  thus  displayed  already  the  masculine 
aspects  of  her  character.  She  was  nineteen  years 
old  when  her  marriage  with  the  brother  of  Louis 
XIV.  was  decided  on. 

She  set  out  for  France  in  1671.  Three  bishops 
were  sent  to  the  frontier  to  instruct  her  in  the 
Catholic  religion,  which  was  henceforth  to  be  her 
own.  The  three  prelates  began  their  work  at  Metz 
and  terminated  it  on  their  arrival  at  Versailles.  The 
Princess,  who  possibly  regretted  her  Protestantism 
somewhat,  said  she  had  never  found  her  instructors 
in  perfect  accord  with  each  other,  and  that  she  had 
taken  a  little  of  their  doctrines  from  all  three. 

The  new  Duchess  of  Orleans  was  the  opposite  in 
all  respects  of  her  over  whom  Bossuet  had  preached 
so  touching  a  funeral  sermon.  The  court  which  had 
admired  the  very  type  of  elegance  and  beauty  in  the 


THE  DUCUEHS  OF  ORLEANS 


171 


first  Madame,  forund  in  the  second  that  of  rudeness 
and  ugliness.  The  one  was  as  coquettish  as  the 
other  was  lacking  in  the  wish  to  please.  The  Prin¬ 
cess  Palatine  took  a  sort  of  delight  in  exaggerating 
what  she  thought  of  her  own  physique.  “  I  have 
big  hanging  cheeks  and  a  large  face,”  she  wrote  ; 
“  moreover,  my  figure  is  very  small,  short,  and  thick  ; 
sum  total,  I  am  an  ugly  little  creature.  If  I  had  not 
a  good  heart,  no  one  could  put  up  with  me  anywhere. 
To  know  whether  my  eyes  display  intelligence  it 
Avould  be  necessary  to  examine  them  with  a  micro¬ 
scope  or  with  glasses  ;  otherwise  it  would  be  difficult 
to  judge.  Probably  no  such  villanous  hands  as 
mine  could  be  found  anywhere  on  earth.  The  King 
remarked  as  much  to  me  and  made  me  laugh  heartily  ; 
for  never  having  been  able  to  flatter  myself  con¬ 
scientiously  on  having  anything  pretty  about  me,  I 
have  adopted  the  plan  of  being  the  first  to  laugh  at 
my  ugliness,  and  it  has  succeeded  very  well.” 

If  the  Princess  Palatine  did  not  dazzle  the  court, 
the  court  on  the  other  hand  did  not  dazzle  her. 
Versailles  and  its  splendors  left  her  unmoved.  “I 
like  better,”  she  wrote,  “  to  see  trees  and  fields  than 
the  finest  palaces  ;  I  like  a  kitchen  garden  better  than 
gardens  adorned  with  statues  and  fountains  ;  a 
streamlet  pleases  me  more  than  sumptuous  cascades  ; 
in  a  word,  all  that  is  natural  is  infinitely  more  to 
my  taste  than  works  of  art  and  magnificence  ;  they 
please  only  at  the  first  glance,  and  as  soon  as  one  is 
accustomed  to  them  they  create  fatigue,  and  one 


172 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


cares  about  them  no  longer.”  What  Madame  loved 
and  regretted  was  her  German  Rhine,  the  hills  where 
as  a  child  she  had  seen  the  sun  rise,  and  had  eaten 
bread  and  cherries. 

The  youthful  nobility  of  France,  in  spite  of  its 
elegance,  luxury,  and  animation,  had  no  attraction  for 
her.  “  All  the  young  people  in  general,”  said  she, 
“are  horribly  debauched  and  addicted  to  every  vice, 
not  excepting  lying  and  deceit.  They  consider  it  a 
shame  to  pique  themselves  on  being  men  of  honor. 
They  do  nothing  but  drink,  wallow  in  debauchery, 
and  talk  obscenely.  You  can  easily  judge  from  this 
what  great  pleasure  honest  people  must  enjoy  here  ; 
but  I  am  afraid  that  if  I  carry  my  details  concerning 
the  court  any  farther,  I  shall  cause  you  the  same  dis¬ 
gust  that  I  "often  experience  myself,  and  that  this 
disgust  may  end  by  becoming  a  contagious  disease.” 

Madame’s  husband  was  not  a  consolation  to  her, 
because,  criticising  him  with  legitimate  severity,  she 
did  not  profess  more  than  a  moderate  esteem  and 
affection  for  him.  She  never  forgave  him  for  sur¬ 
rounding  himself  with  men  accused  of  having 
assassinated  his  first  wife,  the  beautiful  and  poetic 
Henrietta  of  England,  and,  showing  the  greatest 
contempt  for  the  Chevalier  de  Lorraine,  she  did  not 
feel  in  safety  herself.  She  suffered  from  the  charac¬ 
ter  of  her  husband,  feeble,  timid,  governed  by  favor¬ 
ites,  and  often  misled  by  them  :  “  annoying  and  in¬ 
capable  of  keeping  any  secret,  suspicious,  mistrust¬ 
ful,  sowing  discords  in  his  court  for  the  sake  of 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS 


173 


confusion  to  find  out  something,  and  often  also  to 
amaze  himself.” 

For  the  Princess  Palatine  religion  was  an  insuffi¬ 
cient  solace  for  the  annoyances  and  vexations  of 
which  she  was  incessantly  the  victim.  Born  in  the 
Protestant  religion,  she  did  not  well  comprehend 
the  mystic  and  sacred  joys  of  Catholic  worship. 
Although  she  was  not  a  free  thinker,  she  made  occa¬ 
sional  reflections  and  waggeries  which  seem  to  fore¬ 
bode  the  philosophers  of  the  following  century.  She 
remained  a  good,  practical  Christian,  but  she  did  not 
consider  all  priests  to  be  in  the  odor  of  sanctity.  She 
had  a  horror  of  mixing  religion  with  politics,  and 
the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  which  was  ad¬ 
mired  by  the  clergy,  shocked  all  her  sentiments  and 
instincts.  “  I  must  confess,”  she  wrote,  “  that  when 
I  hear  the  eulogies  that  are  given  the  great  man 
from  the  pulpit  for  having  persecuted  the  reformed, 
it  always  annoys  me.  I  cannot  endure  to  hear 
people  praise  what  is  bad.”  “  It  is  inconceivable,” 
she  wrote  again,  “how  simple  the  great  man  is  in 
matters  of  religion,  because  he  is  not  so  in  other 
things.  That  comes  from  his  never  having  studied 
religious  things,  never  having  read  the  Bible,  and 
honestly  believing  what  is  told  him  on  this  subject.” 

The  grandeur  of  Bossuet’s  ideas,  the  majesty  of  a 
policy  derived  from  the  Scriptures,  had  few  attrac¬ 
tions  for  Madame.  “I  cannot  endure,”  wrote  she, 
“kings  who  imagine  they  please  God  by  praying. 
It  was  not  for  that  He  placed  them  on  the  throne. 


174 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEIISAILLES 


To  do  good,  exercise  right  and  justice,  restrain  the 
clergy  and  make  them  keep  to  their  prayers  without 
meddling  in  other  things,  —  that  is  what  ought  to 
be  the  true  devotion  of  kings.  Let  a  king  say  his 
prayers  morning  and  night,  that  is  sufficient  ;  for  the 
rest,  he  ought  to  think  of  making  his  subjects  as 
happy  as  he  can.”  ^  Whatever  bore  the  slightest 
resemblance  to  religious  persecution  aroused  an  ener¬ 
getic  protest  in  the  Princess  Palatine.  She  found 
it  deplorable  that  no  one  could  make  Louis  XIV. 
understand  that  “religion  was  instituted  rather  to 
preserve  union  among  men  than  to  make  them  tor¬ 
ment  and  persecute  each  other.”  “  King  James,”  she 
added,  “said  that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had  certainly 
been  seen  beating  men  to  drive  them  from  the  Tem¬ 
ple,  but  He  was  nowhere  found  maltreating  them  to 
make  them  enter  it.”  ^ 

The  theological  discussions  which  occupied  so 
much  space  at  court,  did  not  awaken  the  slightest 
interest  in  the  Princess.  On  this  head  she  writes  : 
“  All  they  tell  us  about  the  other  world  is  incom¬ 
prehensible.  It  seems  to  me  impossible  to  compre¬ 
hend  what  God  does  with  us,  and  that  we  ought 
to  confine  ourselves  to  admiring  His  omnipotence 
without  desiring  to  argue  about  His  goodness  and 
justice.”  The  beautiful  and  touching  ceremonies 
of  Catholicism,  the  long  sermons,  the  protracted 
offices,  did  not  greatly  please  Madame.  “I  think,” 


^  Letter  of  March  23,  1696. 


2  Letter  of  July  18,  1700. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS 


176 


she  writes,  “that  Monsieur  is  a  devotee,  and  that 
he  resembles  Henry  III.  in  every  way.  If  this  is 
the  road  to  heaven,  I  shall  certainly  never  enter  it, 
seeing  that  I  find  it  impossible  to  hear  a  high  mass. 
I  get  through  with  my  devotions  very  expeditiously, 
for  I  have  a  chaplain  who  hurries  through  his 
mass  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  just  suits  me.” 
In  plain  chant  she  detested  what  she  described 
as  an  eternal  naming  of  the  vowels  ;  and,  referring 
to  it,  she  said:  “Very  often,  if  I  dared,  I  would 
run  out  of  the  church,  so  insupportable  is  this  to 
me.  ...  I  like  Doctor  Luther  for  having  composed 
some  fine  hymns,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  it  has 
given  many  people  the  notion  of  becoming  Luther¬ 
ans,  for  those  hymns  have  something  gay  about 
them.” 

Madame,  who  was  very  observant,  analyzed  and 
described  the  various  kinds  of  piety  exhibited  by  the 
courtiers.  “  In  matters  of  devotion,  I  see  that  every 
one  follows  his  inclination;  those  who  like  to  babble 
want  to  pray  a  good  deal;  those  who  are  generous 
by  nature  always  give  alms  ;  those  who  are  choleric 
and  easily  annoyed  are  constantly  in  transports  and 
want  to  kill  everybody  ;  those,  on  the  other  hand, 
who  are  gay,  think  they  can  serve  God  very  well 
by  rejoicing  in  all  things  and  being  annoyed  by 
nothing.  In  short,  devotion  is,  for  those  addicted 
to  it,  a  touchstone  which  discovers  their  natural 
inclinations.  For  my  part,  I  think  the  worst  devo¬ 
tees  are  the  ambitious  ones  who  simulate  devotion 


176 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


in  order  to  rule,  and  who  claim  to  render  a  great 
service  to  God  by  subjecting  everything  to  their 
power.  The  most  supportable  are  those  who,  hav¬ 
ing  been  very  amorous,  when  they  once  take  God 
for  their  object,  think  of  nothing  but  speaking  to 
Him  affectionately,  and  leave  everybody  else  at 
peace.”  ^ 

What  shocked  Madame  was  not  religion,  which 
she  respected,  but  the  hypocrites  who  used  it  as  a 
mask.  Her  indignation  was  not  directed  against  the 
faith,  but  against  the  rising  flood  of  scepticism,  and 
we  credit  her  with  sincere  grief  when  she  wrote  in 
1699  :  “  The  faith  is  so  extinct  in  this  country  that 
one  hardly  finds  a  single  young  man  who  does  not 
wish  to  be  an  atheist;  but  what  is  stranger  still  is 
that  the  same  individual  who  turns  atheist  at  Paris 
plays  the  devotee  at  court.  It  is  claimed  also  that 
all  the  suicides  which  have  been  so  frequent  lately 
are  caused  by  atheism.” 

With  such  an  opinion  of  the  courtiers,  it  is  easy  to 
understand  how  badly  off  the  Princess  Palatine  must 
have  found  herself  among  them.  German  to  the  end 
of  her  finger-nails,  she  suffered  when  obliged  to  live 
beside  the  enemies  of  her  country,  and  the  conflagra¬ 
tions  of  the  Palatinate  seemed  to  her  infernal  flames. 
This  court  which  played  and  danced  while  the  pal¬ 
aces  and  cabins  of  Germany  were  burning,  became  to 
her  an  object  of  horror.  The  unhappy  people  who 


1  Letter  of  July  7,  1695. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS 


177 


were  expelled  from  their  homes,  robbed,  despoiled, 
maltreated;  the  ruins  of  Heidelberg,  Manheim,  An- 
derdach,  Baden,  Rastadt,  Spire,  Worms,  were  con¬ 
stantly  in  her  mind.  Pursued  as  by  phantoms,  she 
was  a  prey  to  patriotic  despair  and  anguish,  and  felt 
herself  a  prisoner  in  the  splendid  palace  of  Versailles. 
There  is  something  touching  in  her  plaints:  “Were 
it  to  save  my  life  it  is  impossible  for  me  not  to  regret 
being,  so  to  say,  the  pretext  for  the  ruin  of  my  coun¬ 
try.  I  cannot  look  on  coolly  while  they  destroy  at 
a  single  blow  in  that  poor  Manheim  all  that  cost 
the  late  Prince  Elector,  my  father,  so  much  toil  and 
trouble.  Yes,  when  I  think  of  all  that  has  been  ruined 
there,  it  fills  me  with  such  horror  that  every  night  as 
soon  as  I  begin  to  fall  asleep  I  seem  to  be  at  Heidel¬ 
berg  or  Manheim  beholding  the  ravages  that  have 
been  committed.  Then  I  start  up  wide  awake,  and 
it  takes  me  more  than  two  hours  to  go  to  sleep  again. 
I  fancy  how  it  all  was  in  my  time  and  to  what  con¬ 
dition  it  has  been  reduced  to-day  ;  I  consider  also  in 
what  condition  I  am  myself,  and  I  cannot  avoid  weep¬ 
ing  bitter  tears.”  ^ 

The  Princess  found  few  with  whom  she  sympathized 
in  this  large  and  brilliant  court.  She  admired  neither 
the  men,  the  women,  nor  the  things  that  figured  there. 
Everything  displeased  and  annoyed  her.  The  figure 
of  the  King,  whom  she  somewhat  ironically  called 
the  great  man,  was  the  only  one  that  seemed  to  her 


1  Letter  of  March  20,  1689. 


178 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VElt  BAILEES 


majestic,  and  even  on  that  sun  she  discovered  many 
spots.  Her  family  afforded  her  no  satisfaction.  She 
had  the  sorriest  opinion  of  her  husband,  who  was 
incessantly  occupied  with  futilities,  masquerades,  and 
cynical  intrigues.  One  of  her  letters,  written  in 
1696,  contains  this  curious  passage  :  “  Monsieur  says 
openly,  and  he  had  not  concealed  it  from  either  his 
daughter  or  me,  that  as  he  is  beginning  to  grow  old 
he  has  no  time  to  lose,  that  he  will  do  everything  and 
spare  nothing  to  amuse  himself  up  to  the  last,  that 
those  who  survive  him  will  know  how  to  spend  their 
time  after  their  own  fashion,  but  that  he  loves  him¬ 
self  better  than  me  or  his  children,  and  that  in  con¬ 
sequence  he  intends,  so  long  as  he  lives,  to  attend  to 
no  one  but  himself,  and  he  acts  as  he  talks.” 

Madame  was  not  more  happy  in  her  son,  the  future 
regent,  than  in  her  husband.  The  judgment  she 
passed  on  this  son,  who  wilfully  spoiled  the  fine 
qualities  he  had  been  endowed  with  by  nature,  justi¬ 
fies  that  of  Louis  XIV.  on  this  boaster  of  vices,  '•'■fan¬ 
faron  de  vices.'’’’  “  Although  his  inclinations  are  in 
reality  serious,”  she  writes,  “and  he  does  not  take 
kindly  to  debauchery,  he  yields  to  it  solely  to  imitate 
others,  and  that  is  what  annoys  me  most  of  all.  If 
the  pleasure  were  in  his  nature,  I  should  not  have 
much  to  say  against  it;  but  that  he  should  do  vio¬ 
lence  to  himself  in  order  to  take  to  vice  and  talk 
twaddle,  while  at  the  same  time  he  hides  everything 
that  is  good  in  him  —  this  is  what  I  cannot  endure 
without  pain.” 


ruE  DUCHESS  of  Orleans 


170 


The  Princess  Palatine  had  a  horror  of  illegitimate 
births,  and  her  jnlde  was  outraged  by  the  rank  occu¬ 
pied  at  court  by  the  daughters  of  Louis  XIV.  and 
Madame  de  Montespan,  whom  she  detested,  to  use 
her  own  expressions,  as  being  “the  bastards  of  a 
double  adultery,  the  children  of  the  worst  and  most 
abandoned  woman  that  the  earth  can  bear.”  Hence, 
when  her  son  consented  to  marry  one  of  these  bas¬ 
tards,  she  was  so  enraged  as  to  give  him,  in  the 
gallery  of  Versailles,  that  vigorous  and  resounding 
slap  in  the  face,  which  re-echoes  so  plainly  in  Saint- 
Simon’s  Memoirs.  She  wrote  in  1700:  “  My  son  has 
caused  me  much  grief  in  addition  to  his  marriage. 
.  .  .  What  I  find  worst  in  his  conduct  is  that  I  am 
the  only  one  who  cannot  have  his  friendship,  for  with 
that  exception  he  is  good  to  everybody.  And  yet  I 
have  only  lost  his  friendship  by  always  advising  him 
in  his  own  interest.  At  present  I  have  taken  my 
stand  ;  I  say  nothing  more  to  him,  and  speak  to  him 
as  I  would  to  the  first  comer  of  indifferent  things  ; 
but  it  is  a  very  painful  thing  not  to  be  able  to  open 
one’s  heart  to  those  one  loves.” 

Inwardly  tormented,  exasperated  by  her  husband’s 
favorites,  saddened  as  a  wife,  a  mother,  and  a  German, 
Madame  cared  little  for  the  splendors  of  Versailles 
and  Saint-Cloud,  where  her  existence  was  a  blending 
of  luxury  and  poverty.  “  Certainly,”  said  she,  “  I 
would  attach  great  value  to  grandeur  if  one  could 
have  all  that  should  accompany  it,  plenty  of  gold, 
for  instance,  in  order  to  be  magnificent,  and  the 


180 


TUE  WOUEX  OF  VERSAILLES 


power  to  assist  the  good  and  punish  the  wicked;  but 
to  have  only  the  name  of  grandeur  without  the  money, 
to  be  reduced  to  the  strictest  necessaries,  to  live 
under  perpetual  constraint  without  its  being  possible 
to  have  any  society,  this  seems  to  me,  in  truth,  per¬ 
fectly  insipid,  and  I  care  nothing  whatever  about  it. 
I  should  prize  more  a  condition  in  which  one  could 
amuse  one’s  self  with  good  friends  without  the  troubles 
of  grandeur,  and  do  with  one’s  property  whatever  one 
pleased.”  ^ 

How  did  the  Princess  Palatine  continue  to  divert 
herself  from  so  many  worries  and  cares  ?  By  hunting 
and  writing.  The  chase,  and  still  more  the  epistolary 
style,  —  these  were  her  two  passions,  her  two  manias. 
From  1671,  the  year  of  her  marriage,  to  1722,  the  year 
of  her  death,  she  never  stopped  writing  letters  to  the 
members  of  her  German  family.  On  Mondays  she 
wrote  to  Savoy,  on  Wednesdays  to  Modena,_  Thurs¬ 
days  and  Sundays  to  Hanover.  But  this  rage  for 
scribbling  was  fatal  to  her  notwithstanding.  Her 
correspondence,  opened  at  the  postroffice,  was  sent  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  showed  the  imprudent 
Princess  a  letter  full  of  the  most  outrageous  insults. 
“  One  can  fancy,”  says  Saint-Simon,  “  whether  at  this 
aspect  and  this  reading  Madame  did  not  think  of 
dying  on  the  spot.  She  began  to  cry,  and  Madame 
de  Maintenon  to  represent  modestly  to  her  the 
enormity  of  every  part  of  this  letter,  and  in  a  foreign 


1  Letter  of  August  21,  1696. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  ORLEANS 


181 


country,  too.  The  best  excuse  for  Madame  was  to 
own  up  what  she  could  not  deny,  pardons,  repent¬ 
ances,  prayers,  promises.  .  .  .” 

Madame  de  Maintenon  coldly  enjoyed  her  triumph 
for  some  time,  letting  the  Princess  choke  over  her 
words,  weep,  and  try  to  take  her  hands.  It  was  a 
terrible  humiliation  for  so  arrogant  and  proud  a  Ger¬ 
man.  Nothing  more  is  needed  to  explain  the  hatred 
of  the  Princess  Palatine  for  her  to  whom  in  her  rage 
she  applied  the  old  German  proverb  :  “  Where  the 
devil  cannot  go  himself  he  sends  an  old  woman.” 

Madame  quieted  down  when  she  became  a  widow 
in  1701.  “No  convent,”  said  she  the  day  after  Mon¬ 
sieur  died  ;  “  let  no  one  talk  to  me  about  a  convent  !  ” 
Happy  to  remain  at  court,  in  spite  of  the  ill  things 
she  had  said  about  it,  she  softened  towards  Madame 
de  Maintenon  sufficiently  to  write  in  1712:  “Al¬ 
though  the  old  woman  is  our  most  cruel  enemy,  still 
I  wish  her  a  long  life,  for  everything  would  go  ten 
times  worse  than  it  does  if  the  King  were  to  die  now. 
He  has  loved  this  woman  so  much  that  he  certainly 
would  not  survive  her  ;  therefore  I  hope  she  may  live 
for  many  years.” 

Madame  ended  her  days  like  a  good  Christian,  and 
Massillon,  in  a  beautiful  funeral  oration,  rendered 
due  homage  to  the  courage  she  had  displayed  in  her 
last  sufferings.  To  those  who  surrounded  her  death¬ 
bed  she  had  said  with  a  calmness  worthy  of  Louis 
XIV.  :  “We  shall  meet  again  in  heaven.” 

To  sum  up,  Madame  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  is  a 


182 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


very  strange  type,  but  she  demands  attention  whether 
or  no.  In  her,  uprightness  and  good  sense,  justice 
and  humanity,  coexist  with  great  caprices.  In  her 
letters,  amidst  a  mass  of  insignificant  details,  more 
or  less  inexact,  anecdotes,  commonplaces,  and  worldly 
gossip,  there  are  thoughts  worthy  of  a  moralist  and 
judgments  that  bear  the  stamp  of  wisdom.  It  is  true 
she  preached  morality  in  cynical  language  ;  but  if 
she  speaks  of  debauchery,  it  is  only  to  stigmatize  it 
and  depict  its  shamefulness.  She  has  at  least  the 
merit  of  seeing  vice  as  it  is,  of  looking  it  in  the  face, 
of  detesting  it  with  a  warlike,  aggressive,  irreconcil¬ 
able  hatred,  of  stigmatizing  it  in  Rabelaisian  accents, 
whose  triviality  renders  them  more  striking  than  fine 
homilies.  For  that  matter,  are  not  crudities  of  lan¬ 
guage  and  audacities  of  expression  less  dangerous 
than  certain  refinements  of  half-mystical,  half-sen- 
sual  poesy  which,  by  confounding  the  alcove  with 
the  oratory,  envelop  voluptuousness  in  a  cloud  of 
incense  ? 


xn 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON  AS  A  POLITICAL  -WOMAN 
O  write  history  with  the  aid  of  pamphlets,  to 


-L  accept  as  verities  all  the  inventions  of  malevo¬ 
lence  or  hatred,  to  say  with  Beaumarchais  :  “  Calum¬ 
niate,  calumniate,  some  trace  of  it  will  always 
remain,”  to  belittle  what  is  great,  to  misinterpret 
what  is  noble,  to  tarnish  what  is  brilliant,  —  such  are 
the  tactics  of  the  sworn  enemies  of  our  traditions 
and  our  glories,  such  is  the  pleasure  of  the  iconoclasts 
who  would  like  to  efface  from  our  annals  all  gran¬ 
diose  or  majestic  figures.  The  revolutionary  school 
whose  disciples  they  are  has  already  done  much 
harm.  It  has  sapped  the  foundations  of  the  edifice  ; 
it  has  aided  to  destroy  that  respect  which  is  indis¬ 
pensable  to  well-organized  societies  ;  it  has  converted 
books  into  libels,  criticisms  into  invectives,  portraits 
into  caricatures  ;  it  has  conspired  with  that  essen¬ 
tially  false  literature  known  as  the  historical  novel, 
to  travesty  persons  and  things  and  spread  abroad  a 
mass  of  exaggerations  and  fables  which  confuse  facts 
and  ideas  and  reverse  the  conceptions  of  good  sense 
and  justice.  One  of  the  men  whom  this  school  holds 


188 


184 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


most  in  horror  is  Louis  XIV.,  because  he  was  the 
representative  or,  better,  the  living  symbol  of  the 
principle  of  authority.  It  is  tired  of  hearing  him 
called  the  Great,  like  that  Athenian  who  was  weary 
of  hearing  Aristides  called  the  Just.  It  has  fancied 
it  would  extinguish  the  royal  sun  by  breathing  on  it. 
An  old  potentate  kept  in  leading  strings  by  a  bigoted 
and  intriguing  old  woman,  —  such  is  the  image  it 
would  delineate,  the  characteristics  it  wishes  to  hand 
down  to  posterity  as  those  of  him  who  to  his  last 
hour,  his  latest  breath,  remained  what  he  had  been 
throughout  his  life  —  the  very  type  of  royalty,  the 
sovereign  by  excellence.  To  dishonor  Louis  XIV. 
in  the  woman  whom  he  chose  among  all  others  as 
the  companion  of  his  maturity  and  his  old  age, — 
such  has  been  and  still  is  the  thing  aimed  at  by 
writers  of  this  school.  They  have  based  their  judg¬ 
ments  on  those  of  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  the  Prin¬ 
cess  Palatine  whose  portrait  we  have  just  essayed  to 
trace,  and  on  those  of  another  equally  objectionable 
witness,  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon.  It  ought  not  to 
be  forgotten  that  this  hot-headed  duke  and  peer,  who 
often  talked  like  Philinte  if  he  always  thought  like 
Alceste,  was  at  least  frank  enough  to  say  of  himself  : 
“  The  stoic  is  a  fine  and  noble  chimera.  I  do  not 
pique  myself,  therefore,  on  impartiality  ;  I  should  do 
so  in  vain.”  It  irritated  him  to  be  of  no  account  in 
a  government  where  many  a  man  of  middling  abili¬ 
ties  had  secured  the  sovereign’s  favor.  To  be  con¬ 
demned  to  the  idle  existence  of  a  courtier,  to  live  in 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON 


185 


ante-chambers,  on  staircases,  in  the  courts  and  gar¬ 
dens  of  Versailles  and  other  royal  residences,  vexed 
and  displeased  his  vanity.  He  laid  the  blame  of  this 
on  Louis  XIV.  at  first,  and  afterwards  on  the  woman 
whom  he  considered  as  the  arbiter  of  all  appoint¬ 
ments.  But  it  was  only  in  his  Memoirs,  written 
clandestinely  and  kept  under  lock  and  key,  that  he 
dared  give  expression  to  his  wrath.  He  was  all 
respect  and  docility  in  presence  of  the  King.  After 
bestirring  himself  a  good  deal  concerning  a  certain 
collection  which  had  been  a  subject  of  litigation  be¬ 
tween  the  princesses  and  duchesses,  he  said  humbly 
to  the  King  that  to  please  him  he  would  have  passed 
around  the  plate  like  a  village  church-warden.  He 
added  that  Louis  XIV.  was,  “  as  king  and  as  bene¬ 
factor  of  all  dukes,  despotically  master  of  their  dig¬ 
nities,  to  abase  or  to  elevate  them,  to  dispose  of  them 
as  a  thing  belonging  to  him  and  absolutely  in  his 
power.”  He  was  not  more  haughty  in  the  presence 
of  her  whom  he  characterizes  in  his  Memoirs  as  a 
“notorious  creole,  the  begging  widow  of  a  crippled 
poet.”  He  even  tried  to  gain  her  over  to  the  inter¬ 
ests  of  his  ambition,  and  to  obtain  through  her  means 
a  captaincy  of  guards.  Furious  at  not  being  called 
to  the  greatest  positions  of  State,  he  pleased  himself 
with  the  posthumous  revenge  of  describing  Madame 
de  Maintenon  in  the  most  odious  colors.  Relying 
on  his  imagination  in  default  of  other  proofs,  he 
makes  of  her  a  sort  of  ancient  courtesan,  living  by 
debauchery  in  her  youth  and  by  intrigue  in  riper 


186 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


years.  What  he  says  of  her  is  a  tissue  of  inaccura¬ 
cies.  He  assigns  her  birth  to  America,  while  it  is 
certain  that  she  was  born  at  Niort.  He  will  scarcely 
admit  that  her  father  was  a  gentleman,  while  his 
nobility  is  absolutely  incontestable.  He  accuses  her 
of  having  been  supported  by  Villars,  father  of  the 
marshal,  by  the  three  Villarceaux,  and  by  several 
others,  while  it  is  positive  that  she  never  received  a 
farthing.  Obliged  to  own  that  on  Scarron’s  death 
she  was  “reduced  to  the  charity  of  her  parish  of 
Saint-Eustache,”  he  does  not  perceive  that  such  an 
assertion  concerning  a  woman  whose  beauty  was 
celebrated  throughout  Paris  proves  in  an  undeniable 
fashion  the  virtue  of  that  woman.  He  reproaches 
her  with  having  been  led  astray  by  the  counsels 
of  Ninon  de  Lenclos,  whereas  Ninon  herself  says: 
“  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  virtuous  in  her  youth 
through  weak-mindedness.  I  wanted  to  cure  her  of 
it,  but  she  feared  God  too  much.” 

Every  day  increases  the  fame  of  Saint-Simon  con¬ 
sidered  as  a  writer.  One  must  admire  a  style  which 
recalls  by  turns  the  boldness  of  Bossuet,  the  brill¬ 
iancy  of  La  Bruyère,  and  the  ease  and  freedom  of 
Madame  de  Sévigné.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
more  one  studies  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  more 
fully  one  recognizes  that  the  famous  memoirs  are 
full  of  inaccuracies.  In  his  remarkable  critical  study 
of  Saint-Simon’s  work,  the  learned  M.  Chéruel^ 

1  Saint-Simon  considéré  comme  historien  de  Louis  XJV.  by  M. 
Chéruel. 


MADAME  DE  MAIN  TEN  ON 


187 


has  already  refuted  in  an  invincible  manner  a  great 
number  of  his  errors,  and  M.  Soulié,  curator  of  the 
Museum  of  Versailles,  is  constantly  discovering  new 
ones  in  the  course  of  his  patient  and  indefatiga¬ 
ble  researches.  M.  Chéruel  has  abundant  reason  to 
say  :  “  Saint-Simon’s  observation  is  subtle,  sagacious, 
penetrating  when  it  is  a  question  of  sounding  the 
recesses  of  the  hearts  of  courtiers  ;  but  it  lacks 
breadth  and  grandeur.  The  court  bounds  his  hori¬ 
zon.  All  that  lies  beyond  it  is  vague  and  indetermi¬ 
nate  for  him.  While  granting  him  the  perspicacity 
of  an  observer  one  must  deny  him  the  impartiality 
of  a  judge.”  To  listen  to  him,  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non  is  the  sole  mistress  of  France,  the  omnipotent 
sultana,  the  pantocrate,  as  the  Princess  Palatine  calls 
her  in  her  curious  jargon.  He  describes  with  many 
details  “  her  incredible  success,  the  entire  confidence, 
the  rare  dependence,  the  almightiness,  the  almost 
universal  public  adoration,  the  ministers,  the  gen¬ 
erals  of  the  army,  the  royal  family  at  her  feet,  every 
boon  and  every  advantage  through  her,  everything 
rejected  without  her;  men,  affairs,  things,  appoint¬ 
ments,  justice,  favors,  religion,  everything  without 
exception  in  her  hands,  and  the  King  and  the  State 
her  victims.”  Needless  to  say  that  the  revolutionary 
school  has  accepted  this  exaggerated  assertion  liter¬ 
ally.  To  believe  it,  Louis  XIV.  is  nothing  but  a 
manikin  of  which  Madame  de  Maintenon  pulls  the 
strings,  a  sort  of  crowned  Géronte  who  lets  himself 
be  tricked  like  a  child  by  a  Jesuit  and  an  old  woman. 


188 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


It  is  thus  they  seek  to  tarnish  the  aureole  with  which 
posterity  has  surrounded  the  most  majestic  of  all 
instances  of  old  age. 

Let  them  say  what  they  will.  Louis  XIV.  always 
remained  master,  and  it  was  he  who  traced  the  great 
political  lines  of  his  reign.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
may  have  advised  him,  but  it  was  he  who  gave  the 
final  decision.  We  say  willingly,  with  M.  Émile 
Chasles  :  “  This  intelligent  woman,  far  from  being 
too  much  listened  to,  was  not  enough  so.  There  was 
in  her  a  veritable  love  for  the  public  welfare,  a  true 
sorrow  in  the  midst  of  our  misfortunes.  To-day  it 
is  necessary  to  retrench  much  from  the  grandeur  of 
her  power  and  add  a  great  deal  to  that  of  her  soul.” 

It  is  well  worthy  of  remark  that  the  woman  who 
is  now  accused  of  a  mischievous  meddling  in  every¬ 
thing,  was  reproached  by  the  most  eminent  men  of 
her  time  of  standing  too  much  aside.  Fénelon  wrote 
to  her  :  “  They  say  you  take  too  little  part  in  affairs. 
Your  mind  is  more  capable  of  it  than  you  think. 
You  are  perhaps  a  little  too  distrustful  of  yourself, 
or  rather  you  are  too  much  afraid  to  enter  into  dis¬ 
cussions  contrary  to  the  inclination  you  have  for  a 
tranquil  and  meditative  life.”  That  Madame  de 
Maintenon  may  have  influenced  certain  appointments 
does  not  appear  doubtful,  but  that  she  alone,  of  her 
own  motion,  controlled  the  ministers,  is  a  pure  in¬ 
vention.  We  believe  her  to  have  been  sincere  when 
she  wrote  to  Madame  des  Ursins  ;  “  In  whatever  way 
matters  turn,  I  conjure  you,  madame,  to  regard  me  as 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON 


18it 


a  person  incapable  of  affairs,  who  heard  them  talked 
of  too  late  to  be  skilful  in  them,  and  who  hates  them 
more  than  she  ignores  them.  .  .  .  My  interference 
in  them  is  not  desired,  and  I  do  not  desire  to  inter¬ 
fere.  They  are  not  concealed  from  me  ;  but  I  know 
nothing  consecutively,  and  am  often  badly  informed.” 

Reading  or  working  at  her  tapestry,  while  the  King 
was  workinor  with  one  or  another  of  his  ministers, 

O 

Madame  de  Maintenon  never  timidly  hazarded  a 
word  except  formally  when  requested.  Her  attitude 
toward  Louis  XIV.  was  that  of  respect,  humility, 
and  modesty.  True,  the  King  said  to  her  :  “  They 
call  the  popes  Your  Holiness,  and  kings  Your  Maj¬ 
esty  ;  you,  Madame,  should  be  called  Your  Solidity.” 
But  this  praise  did  not  turn  the  head  of  so  prudent 
and  reasonable  a  woman. 

To  sum  up,  what  is  the  chief  accusation  brought 
against  Louis  XIV.  ?  His  wars,  his  passion  for  lux¬ 
ury,  his  religious  fanaticism.  How  can  this  triple 
accusation  weigh  upon  Madame  de  Maintenon?  Far 
from  urging  him  to  war,  she  always  desired  peace 
ardently.  “  I  long  after  peace,”  she  wrote  in  1684  ; 
“I  shall  never  give  the  King  any  counsels  prejudicial 
to  his  glory;  but  if  he  would  believe  me,  he  would 
be  less  dazzled  with  this  éclat  of  victory,  and  would 
think  more  seriously  of  his  salvation,  but  it  is  not 
my  business  to  govern  the  State  ;  I  ask  God  daily  to 
inspire  and  direct  the  master  and  make  him  know 
the  truth.”  Unfavorable  to  her  as  he  is,  M.  Michelet 
nevertheless  owns  that  she  profoundly  regretted  the 


190 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEUSAILLES 


war  of  the  succession  in  Spain.  He  says  that  “  the 
only  ones  who  retained  good  sense,  old  Maintenon 
and  the  sickly  Beauvilliers  saw  with  terror  that  they 
were  plunging  into  the  frightful  enterprise  which  was 
going  to  swallow  up  everything.  .  .  .  Just  as  she 
allowed  a  written  decision  for  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes  to  be  extorted  from  her,  so  she 
yielded,  she  submitted  for  the  succession.”  ^ 

She  was  no  fonder  of  luxury  than  of  war.  Living 
with  extreme  simplicity  herself,  she  sought  to  deter 
Louis  XIV.  from  magnificent  constructions  and 
ostentatious  displays  of  pride.  According  to  Made¬ 
moiselle  d’ Aumale,  the  confidant  of  her  good  works, 
she  reproached  herself  on  account  of  her  modest 
personal  expenses.  She  never  bought  a  new  gown 
until  it  was  absolutely  needed,  and  then  said  :  “  I  am 
taking  that  away  from  the  poor.  My  position  has 
many  unpleasant  sides,  but  it  procures  me  the  pleas¬ 
ure  of  giving.  And  yet  as  it  prevents  me  from  lack¬ 
ing  anything,  and  as  I  can  never  encroach  upon  my 
necessaries,  all  my  alms  are  a  sort  of  luxury,  good 
and  permissible,  it  is  true,  but  devoid  of  merit.” 

Madame  de  Maintenon  not  only  counted  for  noth¬ 
ing  in  the  luxury  of  Louis  XIV.,  she  not  merely 
never  ceased  recalling  him  to  ideas  truly  Christian, 
but  she  incessantly  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  people 
whose  wretchedness  she  pitied  while  she  admired 
their  resignation.  Never  allowing  herself  to  be 


1  Michelet,  Louis  XIV.  et  le  due  de  Bourgogne. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENOE 


191 


elated  by  the  incense  burned  at  her  feet  as  well  as  at 
those  of  Louis  XIV.,  she  had  neither  those  bursts  of 
pride,  that  thirst  for  riches,  nor  that  eagerness  for 
domination  which  one  finds  in  the  lives  of  nearly  all 
favorites.  She  was  indifferent  to  jewels,  rich  stuffs, 
and  costly  furniture.  Even  in  her  youth  and  amidst 
the  infatuation  excited  by  her  beauty,  her  mind  had 
been  her  chief  adornment,  and  she  had  never  been 
dazzled  by  exterior  display.  No  prodigality  is  con¬ 
nected  with  her  name. 

The  chief  complaint  formulated  against  Madame 
de  Maintenon  by  certain  historians  is  the  revocation 
of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  They  load  her  with  anath¬ 
emas  as  if  she  alone  were  responsible  for  that  fatal 
measure.  Forgetting  that  it  was  during  his  passion 
for  Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges  that  Louis  XIV. 
began  to  take  rigorous  legislative  proceedings  against 
the  Protestants,  they  attribute  the  persecution  to  the 
hypocritical  zeal  of  a  narrow  devotion  inspired  by 
Madame  de  Maintenon  alone.  On  the  contrary,  the 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  which  we  are  very 
far  from  approving,  was,  one  may  say,  forced  on  the 
King  by  public  opinion.  As  has  been  remarked  by 
M.  Théophile  Lavallée,  those  of  the  reformed  church 
preserved  toward  the  government  the  attitude  of 
children  in  disgrace,  and  towards  the  Catholics  that 
of  disdainful  enemies  ;  they  persisted  in  their  isola¬ 
tion  ;  they  continued  their  correspondence  with  their 
friends  in  England  and  Holland.^  “France,”  has 


1 M.  Lavallée,  Histoire  de  France. 


192 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


said  M.  Michelet,  “  found  a  Holland  in  her  own 
bosom  which  was  rejoicing  at  the  success  of  the 
other  one.”  ^ 

To  recall  the  dissidents  to  unity  was  the  fixed 
idea  of  Louis  XIV.  This,  as  was  said  at  the  time, 
would  be  the  meritorious  work  and  proper  character¬ 
istic  of  his  reign.  The  assembly  of  the  clergy,  the 
parliament  of  Toulouse,  the  Catholics  of  the  south  of 
France,  had  urgently  solicited  the  revocation.  When 
the  decree  appeared  there  was  an  explosion  of  en¬ 
thusiasm.  Whatever  Saint-Simon  may  say,  the  court 
of  Rome  testified  an  extreme  joy.  Innocent  XI. 
hastened  to  address  a  brief  to  Louis  XIV.  thanking 
him  in  the  name  of  the  Church.  He  caused  the 
cannon  of  Castle  Saint  Angelo  to  be  fired,  and  held 
a  papal  chapel  at  which  the  Te  Beum  was  chanted. 
The  Duke  d’Estrées,  French  ambassador  to  the  Holy 
See,  wrote  to  the  King  :  “  His  Holiness  said  to  me 
that  what  Charlemagne  had  done  was  nothing  in 
comparison  to  what  has  just  been  accomplished  by 
Your  Majesty,  that  there  was  nothing  so  great,  and 
that  no  example  of  a  similar  action  could  be  found.” 
Chancellor  Letellier,  intoning  the  canticle  of  Simeon, 
died  saying  that  he  had  nothing  left  to  wish  for  after 
this  final  act  of  his  long  ministry.  Bossuet  rose  to 
lyrical  transports  :  “  Delay  not  to  publish  this  miracle 
of  our  own  days.  Pass  on  the  story  to  future  ages. 
Take  up  your  sacred  pens,  ye  who  compose  the 


^M.  Michelet,  Précis  sur  V  Histoire  moderne. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON, 


MADAME  DE  MAIN  TEE  ON 


193 


annals  of  the  Church.  .  .  .  Touched  by  so  many 
marvels,  let  our  hearts  dilate  over  the  piety  of 
Louis  ;  lift  even  to  heaven  our  acclamations,  and  say 
to  this  new  Constantine,  this  new  Theodosius,  this 
new  Charlemagne,  what  the  six  hundi-ed  and  thirty 
Fathers  said  of  old  in  the  Councils  of  Chalcedon  : 
‘You  have  consolidated  the  faith,  you  have  extermi¬ 
nated  the  heretics.’  ”  ^  Saint-Simon,  who  blames  the 
revocation  with  so  much  eloquence,  avows  that  Louis 
XIV.  was  convinced  of  having  performed  a  holy 
action.  “  The  monarch  had  never  thought  himself  so 
great  in  the  sight  of  men,  nor  so  far  advanced  in  the 
sight  of  God  in  the  reparation  of  the  sins  and  scan¬ 
dals  of  his  life.  He  heard  nothing  but  eulogies.” 
The  laity  did  not  applaud  him  less  than  the  clergy. 
Madame  de  Sévigné  wrote,  October  8,  1685:  “Never 
has  any  king  done  nor  ever  will  do  so  memorable  a 
thing.”  Rollin,  La  Fontaine,  La  Bruyère,  displayed 
as  much  enthusiasm  as  Fénelon,  Massillon  and 
Fléchier.  These  lines  by  Madame  Deshoulières 
reflect  the  general  impression  :  — 

“Ah  I  pour  sauver  ton  people  et  pour  venger  la  foi, 

Ce  que  tu  viens  de  faire  est  au-dessus  de  l’homme. 

De  quelques  grand  noms  qu’on  te  nomme, 

On  t’abaisse  ;  il  n’est  plus  d’assez  grand  noms  pour  toi.”* 


1  Bossuet,  Oraison  funèbre  de  Michel  Letellier. 

2  Ah  1  to  save  thy  people  and  to  avenge  the  faith, 

What  thou  has  just  done  is  above  the  power  of  man. 

By  whatever  great  names  they  name  thee. 

Thou  art  abased  ;  no  name  henceforth  is  great  enough  for  thee. 


194 


THE  WOMEN  OF  TEItSAlLLES 


Doubtless  Madame  de  Mainteiion  allowed  herself 
to  be  carried  away  by  the  unanimous  sentiment  of 
the  Catholic  world.  But  it  was  assuredly  not  she 
Avho  took  the  initiative.  Voltaire  recognizes  this 
when  he  sa3^s  :  “  One  sees  by  her  letters  that  she  did 
not  urge  the  revocation  of  Nantes,  but  that  she  did 
not  oppose  it.” 

In  a  letter  of  September  4,  1678,  she  writes  con¬ 
cerning  abjurations  which  were  insincere  :  “I  am 
indignant  at  such  conversions  ;  the  state  of  those 
who  abjure  without  being  truly  Catholics  is  infa¬ 
mous.”  We  read  in  the  Notes  des  Dames  de  Saint- 
Cyr  :  Madame  de  Maintenon,  while  desiring  with 
all  her  heart  the  reunion  of  the  Huguenots  to  the 
Church,  would  have  desired  that  it  might  rather  be 
by  the  way  of  persuasion  and  gentleness  than  by 
severity  ;  and  she  told  us  that  the  King,  who  was 
very  zealous,  would  have  liked  to  see  her  more  eager 
than  she  seemed,  and  that  he  said  to  her  on  this 
account  :  “  I  fear,  Madame,  lest  the  consideration  you 
wish  shown  to  the  Huguenots  may  be  the  result  of 
some  remaining  bias  toward  your  former  religion.” 

Fénelon  himself,  who  is  represented  as  the  apostle 
of  tolerance,  approved  the  principle  of  the  revocation 
of  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  “  Though  no  sovereign,” 
said  he,  “  may  require  interior  belief  in  religious 
matters  from  his  subjects,  he  may  prevent  the  public 
exercise,  or  the  profession  of  opinions,  or  ceremonies, 
which  disturb  the  peace  of  the  commonwealth,  by  the 
diversity  and  multiplicity  of  sects.”  Such  was  also 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON 


m 


the  opinion  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  But  Protes¬ 
tant  writers  themselves  have  recognized  that  she 
l)lamed  the  employment  of  force.  It  is  the  historian 
of  the  French  refugees  in  Brandenburg  who  says  : 
“  Let  us  do  her  justice.  She  never  counselled  the 
violent  means  that  were  used  ;  she  abhorred  persecu¬ 
tions,  and  those  that  were  practised  were  concealed 
from  her.” 

Madame  de  Maintenon  was  essentially  moderate, 
both  in  religion  and  in  politics.  Her  counsels  counted 
for  something  in  the  declaration  of  December  13, 
1698,  which,  while  maintaining  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  established  a  toleration  which  lasted 
until  the  end  of  the  reign.  Let  us  be  on  our  guard, 
moreover,  against  sharing  the  gross  error  of  those 
who  behold  servitude  in  Catholicism  and  liberty  in 
Protestantism.  Luther  recommended  the  extermina¬ 
tion  of  Anabaptists.  Calvin  executed  Michael  Ser- 
vetus,  Jacques  Brunet,  and  Valentin  Gentiles  for 
heresy.  The  inhumanities  of  Louis  XIV.  toward 
Protestants  did  not  equal  those  of  William  of  Orange 
against  Catholics.  The  English  laws  were  of  Draco¬ 
nian  severity  ;  any  Catholic  priest  residing  in  Eng¬ 
land,  who  had  not  after  three  days  embraced  the 
Anglican  cult,  was  liable  to  the  penalty  of  death. 
And  nowadays  they  want  to  persuade  us  that  in  the 
strife  between  Louis  XIV.  and  William,  it  was  the 
Protestant  prince  who  represented  the  principle  of 
religious  toleration  ! 

To  sum  up,  whether  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 


196 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Nantes  or  any  other  act  of  the  great  reign  is  in  ques¬ 
tion,  Madame  de  Maintenon  did  not  play  the  odious 
part  which  has  been  attributed  to  her  by  calumny. 
We  do  not  believe  she  ever  outstepped  the  limits  of 
that  legitimate  influence  which  a  devoted  and  intelli¬ 
gent  woman  usually  exercises  over  her  husband.  If 
she  was  often  mistaken,  at  least  she  was  mistaken  in 
good  faith.  The  real  Madame  de  Maintenon  is  not 
the  mischievous,  malicious,  crafty,  and  vindictive 
bigot  imagined  by  certain  writers  ;  she  is  a  pious  and 
reasonable  woman,  animated  by  the  noblest  intentions, 
loving  France  sincerely,  sympathizing  deeply  with 
the  sufferings  of  the  people,  detesting  war,  respecting 
right  and  justice,  austere  in  her  tastes,  moderate  in 
her  opinions,  irreproachable  in  her  conduct. 

Speaking  of  the  accord  which  existed  between  her 
and  the  group  of  truly  religious  great  nobles,  M. 
Michelet  has  said  :  “  Let  us  regard  this  little  group 
as  a  convent  in  the  midst  of  the  court,  a  convent  con¬ 
spiring  for  the  amelioration  of  the  King.  In  general, 
it  is  the  converted  court.  What  is  fine,  very  fine  in 
this  party,  what  constitutes  its  honorable  bond,  is  the 
edifying  reconciliation  of  mortal  enemies.  The 
Duchess  de  Béthune-Charost,  daughter  of  Fouquet, 
the  man  whom  Colbert  imprisoned  for  twenty  years, 
became  the  friend,  almost  the  sister  of  the  three 
daughters  of  her  father’s  persecutor.”  Such  were 
the  sentiments  which  Madame  de  Maintenon  knew 
how  to  inspire.  Every  morning  and  night  she  said 
from  the  depths  of  her  soul  this  prayer  which  she  had 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON 


197 


composed  :  “  Lord,  grant  me  to  gladden  the  King,  to 
console  him,  to  encourage  him,  to  sadden  him  also 
when  it  must  be  for  Thy  glory.  Cause  me  to  hide 
from  him  nothing  which  he  ought  to  know  through 
me,  and  which  no  one  else  would  have  the  coirrage 
to  tell  him.” 

No  ;  there  was  nothing  hypocritical  in  such  piety, 
and  the  companion  of  Louis  XIY.  was  sincere  when 
she  said  to  Madame  de  Glapion  :  “  I  should  like  to 
die  before  the  King  ;  I  would  go  to  God  ;  I  would  cast 
myself  at  the  foot  of  His  throne  ;  I  would  offer  Him 
the  desires  of  a  soul  that  He  would  have  piirified  ;  I 
would  pray  Him  to  grant  the  King  greater  lights, 
more  love  for  his  people,  more  knowledge  of  the 
state  of  the  provinces,  more  aversion  for  the  perfidy 
of  the  courtiers,  more  horror  of  the  ways  in  which 
his  authority  is  abused;  and  God  would  hear  my 
prayers.” 


XIII 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENOK’S  LETTERS 
ADAME  DE  MAINTENON  is  one  of  those 


J3_L  characters  who  require  to  be  patiently  and. 
conscientiously  studied  by  an  observer  who  wishes  to 
render  an  impartial  judgment.  At  first,  Louis  XIV. 
did  not  like  the  woman  destined  to  become  the  most 
serious  and  lasting  affection  of  his  life.  “  The  King 
did  not  like  me,”  she  writes  herself,  “  and  long  held 
me  in  aversion  ;  he  was  afraid  of  me  as  a  wit.” 

How  was  it  that  Louis  XIV.  passed  from  repug¬ 
nance  to  sympathy,  from  distrust  to  confidence,  from 
prejudice  to  admiration  ?  It  was  by  getting  a  nearer 
view  of  moral  qualities  which  at  first  he  saw  only 
from  a  distance.  The  same  thing  has  happened  to  a 
majority  of  the  critics  who,  having  to  speak  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  have  not  been  contented  with 
superficial  views,  but  have  carefully  analyzed  the  life 
and  character  of  this  celebrated  woman.  What  has 
occurred  to  one  of  her  principal  defenders,  M.  Théo¬ 
phile  Lavallée,  affords  a  proof  of  the  foregoing 
observation.  When  he  brought  out  his  Histoire  des 
Français,  this  writer  judged  Madame  de  Maintenon 


198 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  LETTERS  199 


very  severely.  He  accused  her  “  of  the  most  com¬ 
plete  aridity  of  heart,  of  a  spirit  of  narrow  devotion 
and  mean  intrigue.”  He  reproached  her  with  hav¬ 
ing  suggested  fatal  enterprises  and  wretched  appoint¬ 
ments  to  Louis  XIV.  “  She  belittled  him,”  he  says, 
“she  forced  mediocre  and  servile  people  on  him,  she 
had,  in  fine,  the  greatest  share  in  the  errors  and  dis¬ 
asters  of  the  end  of  the  reign.” 

Some  years  later,  M.  Lavallée  wrote  his  fine  His¬ 
toire  de  la  maison  royale  de  Saint-Cyr.  In  this  work 
he  says  :  “  Madame  de  Maintenon  gave  Louis  XIV. 
none  but  salutary  and  disinterested  counsels,  useful 
to  the  State  and  to  the  alleviation  of  the  people.” 
What  had  happened  between  the  publication  of  these 
two  books  ?  The  author  had  studied.  Devoting  a 
patient  research  to  a  work  of  prevailing  interest,  he 
had  succeeded  in  collecting  the  letters  and  writings 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  Thanks  to  communica¬ 
tions  from  the  Dukes  of  Noailles,  Mouchy,  Camba¬ 
cérès,  from  MM.  Feuillet  de  Conches,  Montmerqué, 
de  Chevry,  Honoré  Bonhomme,  he  had  been  able  to 
increase  the  treasures  of  the  archives  of  Saint-Cyr. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  is  one  of  the  historical  per¬ 
sonages  who  have  written  most.  Her  Letters,  if  she 
had  not  destroyed  a  great  number  of  them,  would 
almost  form  a  library.  The  archives  of  Saint-Cyr 
alone  contain  forty  volumes  of  them.  And  yet  the 
most  curious  of  the  Letters  have  doubtless  not  been 
preserved.  Always  prudent,  Madame  de  Maintenon 
burned  her  correspondence  with  Louis  XIV.,  her  hus- 


200 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


band  ;  with  Madame  de  Montchevreuil,  her  most 
intimate  friend  ;  with  the  Bishop  of  Chartres,  her 
director.  The  letters  of  her  youth  are  rare.  Nobody 
yet  divined  the  future  which  Providence  was  reserv¬ 
ing  for  her.  M.  Lavallee’s  collection,  necessarily 
incomplete,  is  nevertheless  an  historical  monument 
of  very  great  value.  Two  volumes  of  Letters  and 
familiar  discourses  on  the  education  of  girls,  two 
others  of  historical  and  edifying  Letters  addressed 
to  the  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr,  four  volumes  of  general 
correspondence,  one  of  conversations  and  maxims, 
another  of  miscellaneous  writings,  and  a  final  one 
which  includes  the  Souvenirs  of  Madame  de  Caylus, 
the  Memoirs  of  the  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr,  and  those  of 
Mademoiselle  d’ Aumale,  form  the  ensemble  of  a  pub¬ 
lication  that  has  fully  illustrated  a  figure  eminently 
curious  to  study. 

The  collection  of  Labeaumelle,  Voltaire’s  enemy, 
contains,  along  with  many  authentic  letters,  a  great 
quantity  of  apocryphal  ones.  There  are  changes, 
interpolations,  additions,  and  suppressions.  Fabri¬ 
cated  bits  have  been  inserted  containing  clap-trap 
phrases,  piquant  reflections,  maxims  in  the  style  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  M.  Lavallée  has  found  the 
means  whereby  to  distinguish  the  wheat  from  the 
tares.  Passing  Labeaumelle’s  collection  through 
the  sieve  of  a  sagacious  criticism,  he  has  succeeded 
in  verifying  the  text  of  the  true  letters  and  proving 
the  apocryphal  character  of  those  which  are  false. 
Like  the  connoisseurs  in  autographs,  he  suspected 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  LETTERS  201 


the  striking  letters.  Falsifiers  are  almost  always 
imprudent.  They  force  the  note  ;  and  when  they 
set  about  inventing  a  document,  they  want  their 
invention  to  produce  a  profound  impression. 

,  The  correspondence  of  celebrated  persons  is  gener¬ 
ally  much  more  simple,  far  less  studied  than  the  pre¬ 
tended  autographs  attributed  to  them.  One  needs 
to  be  always  on  his  guard  against  letters  containing 
either  finished  portraits,  profound  judgments,  or  his¬ 
torical  predictions.  They  are  often  signs  of  falsifica¬ 
tion  ;  and  the  more  striking  they  seem,  the  more 
carefully  should  their  origin  be  examined.  This  is 
one  of  the  rules  whose  strict  application  would  pre¬ 
vent  many  mistakes.  The  majority  of  historical  docu¬ 
ments  resemble  certain  inheritances.  They  should 
not  be  accepted  unless  on  condition  of  not  becoming 
liable  to  debts  in  excess  of  the  assets. 

Madame  de  Maintenon’s  letters  deserve  the  trouble 
that  has  been  taken  to  establish  their  dates  and 
authenticity  with  exactness.  Baron  Walckenaër,  the 
biographer  of  Madame  de  Sévigné,  assigns  to  them 
the  highest  rank  without  hesitation.  “Madame  de 
Maintenon,”  he  says,  “is  a  more  finished  model  of 
epistolary  style  than  Madame  de  Sévigné.  The  latter 
seldom  writes  except  when  she  feels  the  need  of  con¬ 
versing  with  her  daughter  or  other  persons  whom  she 
loves,  in  order  to  say  everything,  to  tell  the  whole 
story.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  on  the  contrary,  has 
always  a  distinct  end  in  view  in  writing.  The 
cleverness,  proportion,  elegance,  and  justice  of  her 


202 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


thoughts,  the  subtlety  of  her  reflections,  enable  her  to 
attain  pleasantly  the  goal  she  aims  at.  Her  progress 
is  straight  and  unfaltering,  she  follows  the  road  with¬ 
out  striking  against  the  bushes,  without  deviating  to 
right  or  left.”  ^ 

Such  was  also  the  opinion  of  the  first  Napoleon. 
He  greatly  preferred  the  letters  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  to  those  of  Madame  de  Sévigné,  which  were, 
according  to  him,  “snow  eggs,  with  which  one  could 
surfeit  himself  without  overloading  his  stomach.”  In 
citing  Napoleon’s  preference,  M.  Désiré  Nisard  accepts 
it  with  some  reservations.  “  When  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon’s  letters  are  full  of  matter,”  says  the  eminent 
critic,  “  one  shares  the  opinion  of  the  great  Emperor. 
They  possess,  to  the  highest  degree,  a  certain  name¬ 
less  quality  of  discretion,  simplicity,  efflcacity.  They 
do  not  dazzle  by  means  of  feminine  versatility;  and 
the  naturalness  of  them  pleases  all  the  more  because 
it  proceeds  rather  from  the  reason  which  disdains 
mere  prettiness  without  desiring  to  dispense  with 
real  graces,  than  from  the  wit  which  plays  with  noth¬ 
ings.  But  when  matter  is  lacking,  these  letters  are 
short,  dry,  constrained.”^ 

If  Madame  de  Maintenon  had  had  literary  pre¬ 
occupations,  if  she  had  imagined  that  she  was  writ¬ 
ing  for  posterity,  she  would  have  produced  letters 
still  more  remarkable.  There  is  neither  studied  re- 

1  Walckenaër,  Mémoires  sur  Madame  de  Sévigné,  sa  vie  et  ses 
écrits. 

*  M.  Désiré  Nisard,  Histoire  de  la  littérature  française. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  LETTERS  203 


finement  nor  pretension  in  her  correspondence.  She 
writes  to  edify,  to  convert,  or  to  console  far  more 
than  to  please.  Her  notes  to  the  ladies  and  young 
girls  of  Saint-Cyr  do  not  outstep  this  pious  limit. 
Often  Madame  de  Maintenon  does  not  take  the  pen 
herself,  but  while  spinning  or  knitting  she  dictates  to 
the  young  girls  who  act  as  her  secretaries,  to  Made- 

y 

moiselle  de  Loubert,  Mademoiselle  de  Saint-Etienne, 
Mademoiselle  d’Osmond,  or  Mademoiselle  d’ Aumale. 
But  in  the  least  of  these  innumerable  notes  are 
always  found  those  qualities  of  style,  sobriety,  pro¬ 
portion,  conciseness,  perfect  harmony  between  the 
thought  and  its  expression,  which  have  been  admired 
by  the  best  judges. 

The  two  women  of  the  seventeenth  century  whose 
letters  are  most  celebrated,  Madame  de  Sévigné  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  felt  for  each  other  both  sym¬ 
pathy  and  esteem  :  “We  take  sujjper  every  evening 
with  Madame  Scarron,”  wrote  Madame  de  Sévigné 
in  1672;  “her  disposition  is  amiable  and  marvel¬ 
lously  upright.”  One  can  fancy  what  conversation 
might  be  between  these  choice  women,  both  so  supe¬ 
rior,  so  well-instructed,  so  witty,  complementing  each 
other  by  their  very  diversities. 

Madame  de  Sévigné,  a  strong  and  richly  endowed 
nature,  a  young  and  beautiful  widow,  virtuous  but 
with  a  free  and  dauntless  humor,  a  dazzling  Céliméne, 
sister  to  Molière  as  Sainte-Beuve  calls  her,  a  woman 
whose  character,  speech,  and  writing  are  alike  in¬ 
tense,  justifies  what  was  said  to  her  by  her  friend 


204 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Madame  de  La  Fayette:  “You  seem  born  for  pleas¬ 
ures,  and  they  seem  to  have  been  made  for  you. 
Your  presence  augments  entertainments,  and  enter¬ 
tainments  augment  your  beauty  when  they  form 
your  surroundings.  In  a  word,  joy  is  the  true  con¬ 
dition  of  your  soul,  and  chagrin  is  more  contrary 
to  you  than  to  any  one  else.”  Her  image,  sparkling 
like  her  wit,  appears  to  us  in  the  midst  of  those 
fêtes  which  her  pen  brings  to  life  again  like  the 
wand  of  a  magician.  “  What  shall  I  tell  you  ?  mag¬ 
nificences,  illuminations,  all  France,  worn  out  coats 
and  gold  brocade  ones,  jewels,  braziers  of  fire  and 
of  flowers,  heaps  of  carriages,  cries  in  the  streets, 
lighted  torches,  carriages  backing  and  people  run 
over,  in  fine,  a  whirl,  dissipation,  questions  without 
answers,  compliments  without  knowing  what  one 
says,  civilities  without  knowing  to  whom  one  is 
speaking,  feet  tangled  in  trains.” 

Madame  de  Sévigné,  whose  letters  passed  from 
hand  to  hand  in  drawing-rooms  and  châteaus,  wrote 
for  the  galleries  somewhat.  She  says  herself  :  “  My 
style  is  so  negligent  that  it  needs  a  naturally  worldly 
mind  to  put  up  with  it.”  ^  But  that  does  not  pre¬ 
vent  her  from  understanding  the  worth  of  it.  When 
she  lets  her  pen  “trot  with  the  bridle  hanging 
loose,”  when  she  pleases  herself  by  giving  her 
daughter  “  the  top  of  all  the  panniers,  that  is  to  say, 
the  freshness  of  her  wit,  her  head,  her  eyes,  her  pen. 


1  Letter  of  December  23,  1671. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON'S  LETTERS  205 


her  inkstand,”  and  “  the  rest  goes  as  it  can,”  she 
very  well  knows  that  society  dotes  on  this  style  in 
which  all  the  graces  and  marvels  of  the  great  cen¬ 
tury  are  reflected  as  in  a  looking-glass.  Her  letters 
are  the  model  of  chroniques^  to  employ  an  expression 
used  in  existing  journalism.  In  the  nineteenth  cen¬ 
tury,  as  in  the  seventeenth,  it  is  a  woman  who  carries 
off  the  palm  for  this  species  of  literature  which 
demands  so  much  wit.  Madame  Emile  de  Girardin 
has  been  the  Sévigné  of  our  epoch. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  could  not  or  would  not 
aspire  to  this  wholly  worldly  glory.  Far  from  aim¬ 
ing  at  effect,  she  voluntarily  diminishes  that  which 
she  produces.  Like  a  true  devotee  who  tones  down 
the  brilliancy  of  her  glances,  she  moderates  her  style 
and  tempers  her  wit.  She  sacrifices  brilliant  quali¬ 
ties  to  solid  ones  ;  too  much  imagination,  too  much 
fervor,  alarm  her.  Saint-Cyr  must  not  resemble  the 
hôtel  d’Albret  or  the  hôtel  de  Richelieu  ;  one  must 
not  speak  to  nuns  as  one  would  to  blue-stockings. 

Enjoyment,  Gallic  animation,  good-tempered  gaiety, 
fall  to  the  lot  of  Madame  de  Sévigné  ;  what  marks 
Madame  de  Maintenon  is  experience,  reason,  pro¬ 
fundity.  The  one  laughs  from  ear  to  ear;  the  other 
barely  smiles.  The  one  has  illusions  about  every¬ 
thing,  admirations  which  border  on  naïveté^  ecstasies 
when  in  presence  of  the  royal  sun;  the  other  never 
allows  herself  to  be  fascinated  either  by  the  King  or 
the  court,  by  men,  women,  or  things.  She  has  seen 
human  grandeurs  too  close  at  hand  not  to  understand 


20G 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


their  nothingness,  and  her  conclusions  bear  the  im¬ 
print  of  a  profound  sadness.  Madame  de  Sévigné 
also  has  attacks  of  melancholy  at  times.  But  the 
cloud  passes  quickly,  and  she  is  again  in  broad  sun¬ 
shine.  Gaiety,  frank,  communicative,  radiant  gaiety, 
is  the  basis  of  the  character  of  this  woman,  more 
witty,  seductive,  amusing,  than  any  other.  Madame 
de  Sévigné  shines  by  imagination  ;  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  by  judgment.  The  one  permits  herself  to  be 
dazzled,  inebriated  ;  the  other  always  preserves  her 
indifference.  The  one  exaggerates  the  splendors  of 
the  court;  the  other  sees  them  as  they  are.  The 
one  is  more  of  a  woman  ;  the  other,  more  of  a  saint. 

To  those  who  still  feel  an  antipathy  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  we  venture  to  offer  a  word  of  counsel  : 
it  is,  to  read  before  judging.  The  letters  of  this  ca¬ 
lumniated  woman  are  an  autobiography  which  shows 
us  every  fold  of  her  heart,  and  are  not  less  interest¬ 
ing  from  the  psychological  than  from  the  historical 
point  of  view.  More  reflection  than  vivacity,  more 
wisdom  than  passion,  more  gravity  than  charm,  more 
authority  than  grace,  more  solidity  than  brilliancy, 
—  such  are  the  characteristics  of  a  correspondence 
which  might  justify  the  expression  :  The  style  is  the 


woman. 


XIV 

THE  OLD  AGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN 

IT  is  through  their  pride  that  those  are  punished 
who  have  sinned  by  pride,  and  haughty  natures 
are  nearly  always  those  whom  Providence  condemns 
to  cruel  humiliations.  Of  all  the  favorites  of  Louis 
XIV.,  Madame  de  Montespan  had  been  the  most 
arrogant  and  despotic  ;  she  was  also  the  most  humili- 
ated.i  Unable  to  accustom  herself  to  her  deposition, 
she  remained  more  than  ten  years  at  court,  although 
I  she  had  become  burdensome  to  the  King  and  to  her¬ 
self.  “  People  said  she  was  like  one  of  those  unhappy 
souls  who  come  back  to  expiate  their  faults  in  the 
places  where  they  committed  them.”  ^  There  was  a 
remnant  of  irony  and  wrath  in  the  semi-conversion 
of  this  haughty  Mortemart.  Going  to  see  Madame 
de  Maintenon  one  day,  she  met  there  the  curé  and 
the  gray  sisters  of  Versailles,  who  had  come  to  attend 
a  charitable  meeting.  “Do  you  know,  Madame,” 


1  Madame  de  Montespan  et  Louis  XIV.,  historical  study  by 
M.  Pierre  Clément.  1  vol.  Didier. 

*  Souvenirs  of  Madame  de  Caylus. 

207 


208 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


said  slie,  accosting  her,  “that  your  ante-chamber  is 
wonderfully  adorned  for  your  prayers?” 

The  King  continued  to  see  the  mother  of  the  legit¬ 
imated  children.  Every  day,  after  Mass,  he  went  to 
spend  a  few  minutes  with  her,  but,  as  it  were,  from 
duty,  not  pleasure.  In  1686,  at  Marly,  she  said  to 
him  in  a  moment  of  exasperation  :  “  I  have  a  favor  to 
ask  you.  Leave  to  me  the  care  of  entertaining  the 
people  of  the  second  carriage  and  of  diverting  the 
ante-chamber.”  Between  Louis  XIV.  and  his  former 
mistress  there  was  neither  unreserve,  confidence,  love, 
nor  friendship.  What  remained  after  their  liaison 
was  not  even  a  souvenir,  not  even  respect,  but  only 
remorse.  Devoured  by  ambition  and  by  scruples, 
dragged  hither  and  thither  by  her  passions  as  if  by  so 
many  wild  horses,  Madame  de  Montespan  was  for 
many  long  years  the  prey  of  that  daily,  hourly 
struggle  which  is  one  of  the  most  painful  psycholog¬ 
ical  agonies  that  can  be  imagined. 

Massillon,  tbe  Racine  of  the  Christian  pulpit,  the 
moralist  preacher,  so  skilful  in  sounding  the  depths 
of  the  female  heart,  has  described  better  than  anyone 
else  those  fitful  repentances  which  entail  all  the  bit¬ 
terness  of  penitence  without  giving  any  of  its  conso¬ 
lations  :  “  These  hearts  which  the  world  has  always 
occupied,  and  which  wish  to  consecrate  to  God  the 
remains  of  a  wholly  mundane  existence,  what  a 
buckler  of  brass  do  they  not  oppose  to  grace?  .  .  . 
They  may  seek  for  the  kingdom  of  God  and  the 
hidden  treasure  of  the  Gospel,  but  it  is  like  the 


OLD  AGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  200 


wretched  slaves  condemned  to  seek  for  gold  through 
hard  rocks  in  toilsome  mines  ;  ...  it  seems  as  if  in 
virtue  they  were  playing  another’s  part;  although 
they  are  seeking  salvation  in  good  faith,  there  appears 
in  them  a  nameless  constraint  and  strangeness  which 
make  one  think  they  are  merely  pretending.” 

INIadame  de  Montespan  wanted  to  leave  the  court, 
but  she  had  not  the  courage.  She  could  say  to  her¬ 
self,  like  Saint  Augustine  in  his  Confessions  :  “  These 
trifles  of  trifles,  these  vanities  of  vanities,  draw  me 
by  my  garment  of  flesh,  and  whisper  in  my  ear  :  ‘And 
are  you  sending  us  away  ?  What,  after  this  moment 
shall  we  be  no  longer  with  you?  .  .  .  for  ever?’ 
This  interior  struggle  was  but  a  duel  between  myself 
and  me.” 

The  progress  that  goes  on  between  the  first  symp¬ 
toms  of  repentance  and  the  most  complete  and 
absolute  penitence  is  an  interesting  one  to  study. 
The  former  favorite  ended  by  comprehending  the 
truth  of  Massillon’s  words  :  “  What  comparison  is 
there  between  the  frightful  remorse  of  conscience, 
that  hidden  worm  which  gnaws  us  incessantly,  that 
sadness  of  crime  which  undermines  and  brings  us 
down,  that  weight  of  iniquity  which  overwhelms  us, 
that  interior  sword  which  pierces  us,  and  the  lonely 
sorrow  of  penitence  which  worketh  salvation?  My 
God  !  can  one  complain  of  Thee  when  one  has  known 
the  world?  And  the  thorns  of  the  Cross,  are  they 
not  flowers  when  compared  to  those  that  beset  the 
paths  of  iniquity  ?  ” 


210 


THE  jrOJ/Æ'xV  OF  VERSAILLES 


There  is  an  undercurrent  of  morality  in  public 
opinion  which  makes  the  crowd  contemplate  with  a 
sort  of  pleasure  the  decay  and  ruin  of  certain  for¬ 
tunes.  Madame  de  Montespan  no  longer  met  friendly 
glances  in  the  court  which  had  lately  been  filled  with 
her  flatterers.  Thus  it  is  that  vice  nearly  always 
finds  its  chastisement  here  below.  Short  as  it  is,  life 
is  long  enough  for  the  vengeance  of  God  to  be  accom¬ 
plished,  even  on  the  earth. 

After  long  clinging  to  the  wrecks  of  her  fortune 
and  her  beauty,  like  a  shipwrecked  sailor  to  the  frag¬ 
ments  of  his  vessel,  she  who  had  formerly  been 
called  the  mistress  “  thundering  and  triumphant,”  at 
last  resigned  herself  to  retirement.  On  March  15, 
1691,  she  caused  Bossuet  to  inform  the  King  that 
she  had  chosen  her  course  of  action,  and  would  this 
time  abandon  Versailles  forever.  Thus  the  prelate 
who  had  essayed  sixteen  years  before  to  wrest  her 
from  the  clasp  of  guilty  passions  was  the  same  to 
whom  she  now  had  recourse  to  break  the  last  link  of 
the  chain.  And  yet  she  still  had  hesitations  and 
regrets.  A  month  after  this  pious  resolution,  Dan- 
geau  wrote  :  “  Madame  de  Montespan  has  been  at 
Clagny  for  several  days,  and  has  gone  back  to  Paris. 
She  says  she  has  not  absolutely  given  up  the  court, 
that  she  will  see  the  King  sometimes,  and  that  in 
fact  they  have  been  somewhat  hasty  in  unfurnishing 
her  apartment.”  But  the  favorite  had  been  taken  at 
her  word.  Her  quarters  in  the  chateau  of  Versailles 
were  thenceforward  occupied  by  the  Duke  du  Maine. 


OLD  AGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  211 


She  was  never  again  to  see  the  theatre  of  her  sony 
triumphs.  For  the  King  her  departure  was  a 
deliverance. 

Madame  de  Montespan  lived  by  turns  at  the  abbey 
of  Fonte vrault,  where  her  sister  was  abbess  ;  at  the 
waters  of  Bourbon,  where  she  went  every  summer  ;  at 
the  château  of  Oiron,  which  she  had  purchased  ;  and 
at  the  convent  of  St.  Joseph,  situated  in  Paris  on  the 
site  now  occupied  by  the  Ministry  of  War.  In  this 
convent  she  received  the  most  notable  personages  of 
the  court.  The  only  armchair  in  her  salon  was  her 
own.  “  All  France  went  there,”  says  Saint-Simon  ; 
“she  spoke  to  each  one  like  a  queen,  and  as  to  visits, 
she  paid  none,  not  even  to  Monsieur,  nor  Madame, 
nor  the  grand  Mademoiselle,  nor  to  the  hôtel  Condé.” 
There  was  a  superbly  furnished  chamber  at  the 
château  of  Oiron,  and  though  the  King  never  went 
tl^ere,  it  was  called  the  King’s  chamber. 

From  time  to  time  the  fallen  favorite  dreamed  still 
of  that  sceptre  of  the  left  hand  which  she  had  once 
wielded  with  such  an  audacity  of  pride.  She  was  by 
turns  ashamed  and  proud  of  being  the  mother  of 
legitimated  children.  But  by  slow  degrees,  serious 
thoughts  displaced  those  of  vanity  and  spite.  The 
world  was  vanquished  by  heaven.  Scandal  gave 
way  to  edification.  The  penitent  arrived  not  only  at 
remorse  but  at  macerations,  fasts,  and  hair-cloths. 
This  woman,  once  so  fastidious,  so  elegant,  limited 
herself  to  the  coarsest  underlinen,  and  wore  a  belt 
and  garters  studded  with  iron  points.  She  came  at 


212 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


last  to  give  all  she  had  to  the  poor.  For  several 
hours  a  day  she.  busied  herself  in  making  coarse 
clothing  for  them. 

Close  by  her  chateau  of  Oiron  she  founded  a  hos¬ 
pital  of  which  she  was  rather  the  servant  than  the 
superior.  She  nursed  the  sick  herself,  and  dressed 
their  sores.  As  M.  Pierre  Clément  has  said  so  well 
in  the  fine  study  he  has  devoted  to  her,  the  scandal 
had  been  great,  the  defiance  of  morality,  law,  and 
the  prescriptions  of  religion  insolent  and  prolonged; 
but  when  they  proceed  from  so  haughty  a  nature, 
repentance  and  humility  have  redoubled  value.  By 
her  confessor’s  orders  she  resigned  herself  to  the  act 
which  cost  her  most;  she  wrote  a  most  humbly 
worded  letter  to  her  husband,  asking  his  pardon  and 
offering  either  to  return  to  him  if  he  would  deign  to 
receive  her,  or  to  go  to  any  residence  which  he  might 
choose  to  assign  for  her.  M.  de  Montespan  did  not 
even  answer. 

According  to  Saint-Simon,  the  former  favorite  was 
so  tormented  by  the  terrors  of  death  in  her  latest 
years  that  she  hired  several  women  whose  only  occu¬ 
pation  was  to  watch  with  her  at  night.  “  She  slept 
with  her  curtains  open,  plenty  of  candles  in  her 
chamber,  and  her  watchers  around  her,  whom,  every 
time  she  woke,  she  wanted  to  find  chatting,  playing 
cards,  or  eating,  so  as  to  be  sure  they  were  not 
drowsy.”  I  have  difficulty  in  believing  such  an 
assertion  to  be  exact.  Madame  de  Montespan  was 
too  proud  for  such  pusillanimity.  Fear  did  not 


OLD  AGE  OF  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  213 


enter  her  soul.  It  is  certain  that  she  died  with  as 
much  dignity  as  courage,  even  by  Saint-Simon’s  own 
avowal. 

In  May,  1707,  when  she  started  for  the  baths  of 
Bourbon  she  was  not  ill,  and  yet  she  had  a  presenti¬ 
ment  that  her  end  was  approaching.  Under  its 
influence  she  had  paid  all  the  pensions  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  giving  for  two  years  in  advance,  and  doubled 
her  customary  alms.  Hardly  had  she  arrived  at 
Bourbon  when  she  took  to  her  bed,  never  again  to 
leave  it.  Face  to  face  with  death,  she  neither  defied 
nor  feared  it.  “Father,”  she  said  to  the  Capuchin 
who  was  assisting  her  at  the  last  moments,  “  exhort 
me  as  an  ignorant  person,  as  simply  as  you  can.” 
After  summoning  all  her  domestics  around  her,  she 
asked  pardon  for  the  scandal  she  had  given,  and 
thanked  God  for  permitting  her  to  die  in  a  place 
where  she  was  distant  from  the  children  of  her  sin. 

When  her  soul  had  departed,  her  body  once  so 
bealitiful,  so  flattered,  became  “the  apprenticeship 
of  the  surgeon  of  a  steward  from  I  don’t  know 
where,  who  happened  to  be  at  Bourbon,  and  who 
wanted  to  open  it  without  knowing  how  to  begin.”  ^ 
There  was  a  dispute  between  the  priests  and  canons 
when  the  coffin  was  taken  to  the  church,  where  it 
was  to  remain  until  it  could  be  sent  to  Poitiers  and 
placed  in  a  family  tomb.  The  death  of  a  woman 
who  for  more  than  thirty  years,  from  1660  to  1691, 


1  Saint-Simon,  Motes  sur  le  Journal  de  Dangeau. 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


'2U 


had  played  so  great  a  part  at  court,  caused  no  im¬ 
pression  there.  Louis  XIV.  had  long  considered  his 
former  mistress  as  dead  to  him.  Dangeau  contented 
himself  with  writing  in  his  journal  :  “  Saturday, 
May  28,  1707,  at  Marly:  Before  the  King  went  out 
hunting  it  was  learned  that  Madame  de  Montespan 
died  yesterday  at  Bourbon,  at  three  o’clock  in  the 
morning.  The  King,  after  chasing  a  stag,  prome¬ 
naded  in  the  gardens  until  night.” 

The  Duke  du  Maine,  the  Count  de  Toulouse,  and 
the  Duchesses  of  Bourbon  and  Chartres  were  for¬ 
mally  prohibited  to  wear  mourning  for  their  mother. 
D’Autin,  her  only  legitimate  child,  put  on  black 
garments.  But  he  was  too  good  a  courtier  to  be  sad 
when  the  King  was  not  so.  He  received  his  sover¬ 
eign  at  Petit-Bourg  a  few  days  afterward,  and  in 
one  single  night  had  an  alley  of  chestnut  trees, 
which  was  not  to  the  master’s  taste,  removed.  As  to 
Madame  de  Montespan,  no  one  mentioned  her  name 
again.  Such  is  the  world.  It  is  not  worth  the 
trouble  of  loving  it. 


XV 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OP  LOUIS  XIV. 

HE  princesses  was  the  title  by  which  the  three 


-L  legitimated  daughters  of  Louis  XIV.,  one  by 
Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière  and  the  other  two  by 
Madame  de  Montespan,  were  known  at  court.  The 
first  of  them,  born  in  1666,  married  Prince  Louis 
Armand  de  Coriti.  The  second,  born  in  1673, 
married  the  Duke  de  Bourbon.  The  third,  born  in 
1677,  married  the  Duke  de  Chartres  who  became 
Duke  of  Orleans  and  regent  of  France.  The  Prin¬ 
cess  of  Conti  was  more  beautiful  than  Mademoiselle 
de  La  Vallière.  The  Duchesses  of  Bourbon  and 
Chartres  had  the  wit  and  pride  of  Madame  de 
Montespan.  The  three  princesses,  who  were  as 
proud  of  their  birth  as  if  they  had  been  legitimate 
daughters,  had  a  great  place  in  the  heart  of  Louis 
XIV.  The  court  surrounded  them  with  homage; 
and  although  they  did  not  play  an  important  political 
rôle,  yet  they  must  figure  in  the  gallery  of  the  women 
of  Versailles. 

The  birth  of  the  future  Princess  of  Conti  was 
veiled  in  mystery.  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière 


215 


216 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


had  concealed  her  pregnancy.  The  very  night 
before  her  delivery  she  made  her  appearance  in  the 
royal  apartment  in  presence  of  the  whole  court,  in  a 
splendid  ball  dress,  and  with  uncovered  head.  A 
year  later  her  daughter  was  legitimated  by  letters 
patent  which  are  a  sign  of  the  times.  Concerning 
his  favorite,  Louis  XIV.  said,  in  naming  her  Duchess: 
“  Although  her  modesty  has  frequently  opposed  our 
desire  to  raise  her  sooner  to  a  rank  proportionate  to 
our  esteem  and  her  good  qualities,  yet  the  affection 
we  have  for  her,  and  justice,  do  not  permit  us  to 
defer  any  longer  our  acknowledgment  of  merits  so 
well  known  to  us,  nor  longer  to  refuse  to  nature  the 
effects  of  our  tenderness  for  Marie  Anne,  our  natural 
daughter.”  The  child  was  called  Mademoiselle  de 
Blois. 

In  1674,  the  year  when  the  Duchess  de  La  Valliere 
retired  to  a  Carmelite  convent,  Madame  de  Sévigné 
wrote  :  “  Mademoiselle  de  Blois  is  a  masterpiece  ; 
the  King  and  every  one  else  is  enchanted  with  her. 
She  is  a  prodigy  of  attractiveness  and  grace.  She 
has  charmed  the  court  by  her  beauty  from  her  earli¬ 
est  infancy.  People  pretend  that  the  Emperor  of 
Morocco  fell  madly  in  love  with  her  at  sight  of  her 
portrait.”  She  was  fifteen  years  old  when,  in  Jan¬ 
uary,  1680,  she  married  Louis  Armand  de  Bourbon, 
Prinee  de  Conti,  nephew  of  the  great  Condé,  who, 
like  all  his  family,  testified  the  most  lively  joy  on 
occasion  of  this  marriage. 

The  young  married  c-^uple  seemed  delighted  with 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


217 


each  other.  “  Their  love  is  like  a  romance,”  wrote 
Madame  de  Sévigné,  “and  the  King  is  amused  by 
their  inclination.”  The  courtiers  went  to  the  Car¬ 
melite  convent^  of  the  rue  Saint-Jacques  to  pay 
their  compliments  to  the  former  Duchess  de  La  Val- 
liere,  now  Sister  Louise  of  Mercy,  who  “perfectly 
conciliated  her  style  and  her  black  veil,  her  maternal 
tenderness  with  that  of  a  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ.”  ^ 
In  this  mystic  asylum  whete,  according  to  Bossuet’s 
expression,  one  is  straitened  on  all  sides  so  as  to 
respire  no  longer  except  towards  heaven,  the  pious 
Carmelite,  showing  herself  for  the  last  time,  seemed 
the  very  image  of  repentance  and  sanctity. 

Madame  de  Sévigné  thus  describes  to  her  daughter 
the  emotion  produced  by  such  an  angel  :  “  To  my 
eyes  she  still  possessed  all  the  charms  we  saw  of  old. 
Her  eyes  and  her  glances  are  the  same  ;  austerity, 
poor  nourishment,  and  curtailed  sleep  have  neither 
hollowed  nor  weakened  them.  That  strange  habit 
detracts  nothing  from  her  grace  or  good  appearance. 
She  said  many  kind  things  to  me,  and  spoke  of  you 
so  well  and  appropriately,  all  she  said  being  so  per¬ 
fectly  suitable  to  her  that  I  think  nothing  could  be 
better.  .  .  .  Truly,  that  habit  and  that  retreat  are 
a  great  dignity  for  her.”  ® 


1  The  Carmelite  convent,  situated  opposite  the  Val-de-Grâce, 
extended  from  the  rue  Saint-Jacques  to  the  rue  d’Enfer.  It  had 
two  entrances,  one  on  the  rue  Saint-Jacques  aud  one  on  the  rue 
d’Enfer,  the  latter  still  existing  at  No.  67. 

*  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  of  December  29,  1679. 

*  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  of  January  5,  1680. 


218 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


While  the  saintly  Carmelite  was  expiating  in  the 
cloister  the  birth  of  the  Princess  de  Conti,  the  young 
Princess  was  dazzling  the  court  by  her  beauty,  grace, 
and  spirit.  Like  nearly  all  remarkably  beautiful 
women,  she  was  coquettish.  Her  husband  managed 
her  badly.  He  surrounded  her  with  the  most  fash¬ 
ionable  young  people  at  the  court,  which  naturally 
gave  occasion  for  scandal.  In  1685  she  had  the 
small-pox,  and  the  Prince  de  Conti,  having  shut  him¬ 
self  up  with  her,  took  the  disease  and  died  of  it 
suddenly.  “What  a  death  was  that  of  the  Prince 
de  Conti!  After  having  escaped  all  the  infinite 
perils  of  the  war  in  Hungary,  he  has  just  died  here 
of  a  malady  which  he  scarcely  had.  He  is  the  son  of 
a  saintly  man  and  a  saintly  woman,  and  in  conse¬ 
quence  of  wrongly  directed  thoughts,  he  has  played 
the  fool  and  debauchee,  and  died  without  confes¬ 
sion.”  ^ 

A  widow  at  twenty  and  easily  consolable,  the 
young  Princess  continued  to  be  the  ornament  of 
Versailles.  Monseigneur,  as  the  Dauphin  was  styled, 
was  continually  in  her  apartments;  Versailles  became 
rejuvenated  in  this  little  haunt  of  pleasure.  There 
was  nothing  but  “  promenades,  rendezvous,  love  let¬ 
ters,  serenades,  and  all  that  was  found  delightful  in 
the  good  old  times.”  ^  It  was  there  that  Monseign¬ 
eur  became  acquainted  with  Mademoiselle  Choin, 


^  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  of  November  34,  1686, 
*  Madame  de  Sévigné,  Letter  to  Bussy, 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


219 


who  was  maid  of  honor  to  the  Princess.  According 
to  Madame  de  Caylus,  this  young  lady’s  mind  was 
not  calculated  to  shine  anywhere  except  in  an  ante¬ 
chamber,  and  was  capable  of  nothing  better  than 
describing  what  she  had  seen.  “  And  yet,”  she 
adds  in  her  Souvenirs,  “  this  same  Mademoiselle 
Choin  carried  off  from  the  most  beautiful  princess  in 
the  world  the  heart  of  M.  Clermont,  at  that  time  an 
officer  of  the  guards.  Monseigneur  had  a  particu¬ 
larly  good  opinion  of  him,  and  had  introduced  him 
to  the  Countess  de  Conti,  whom  he  made  such  love  to 
that  he  inspired  her  with  a  rather  lively  inclination.” 

The  King,  having  been  informed  of  this  intrigue 
by  means  of  letters  intercepted  at  the  postoffice,  sent 
for  his  daughter,  and  showed  her  not  only  those  she 
had  written  to  Clermont,  but  those  which  the  latter 
had  addressed  to  Mademoiselle  Choin. 

“  The  Princess  thought  she  would  die,”  says  Saint- 
Simon.  “  She  threw  herself  at  the  King’s  feet,  bathed 
them  with  her  tears,  and  could  hardly  articulate. 
There  was  nothing  but  sobs,  pardons,  despairs,  rages, 
and  entreaties  for  justice  and  vengeance  ;  she  was 
speedily  heard.”  Clermont  and  Mademoiselle  Choin 
had  to  leave  the  court  and  resign  their  appointments. 
But  Mademoiselle  Choin  remained  the  favorite  of 
Monseigneur.^  This  happened  in  1694. 

The  Princess  de  Conti  resumed  her  accustomed 

1  Mademoiselle  Choin  presided  at  Meudon  over  the  little  court 
of  Monseigneur,  who  always  remained  faithful  to  her.  It  is  even 
claimed  that  he  secretly  married  her. 


220 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


dissipations  and  amusements  :  pleasure  parties,  balls, 
hunts,  cards,  collations  at  the  Trianon  or  the  Ména¬ 
gerie,  night  promenades  in  the  gardens.  Meanwhile, 
Sister  Louise  of  Mercy  was  redoubling  her  austeri¬ 
ties.  “  Her  natural  delicacy  had  suffered  infinitely 
from  the  real  severity  of  her  corporal  and  spiritual 
penitence  as  well  as  from  that  of  a  very  sensitive 
heart  which  she  concealed  as  well  as  she  could.  .  .  . 
She  died  with  every  mark  of  great  sanetity  in  the 
midst  of  nuns  to  whom  her  gentleness  and  her  vir- 
tnes  had  given  delight.”  ^  The  Princess  de  Conti, 
notified  too  late,  only  reached  the  Carmelite  convent 
of  the  rue  Saint-Jacques  in  time  to  see  her  mother 
breathe  her  last.^  At  first  she  seemed  very  much 
afflicted  ;  but  SainfiSimon  says  she  was  quickly  con¬ 
soled.  The  whole  court  paid  her  visits  of  condolence. 

The  children  of  Madame  de  Montespan,  who  had 
lost  their  mother  three  years  before,  were  greatly 
mortified  by  these  public  visits,  seeing  that  in  a  par¬ 
allel  case  they  had  not  dared  to  receive  any  such. 
“  They  were  still  more  so,”  adds  Saint-Simon,  “  when 
they  saw  Madame,  the  Princess  de  Conti,  contrary  to 
all  custom,  drape  her  apartment  in  mourning  for  a 
simple  nun,  although  she  was  her  mother,  —  they 
who  had  none,  and  who  for  that  reason  had  not 
dared  even  to  wear  the  least  sign  of  mourning  on 
the  death  of  Madame  de  Montespan.  Between  the 

1  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon. 

2  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière  died  in  June,  1710,  after  six  years 
in  the  cloister. 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


221 


situation  of  the  Princess  de  Conti  and  that  of  the 
two  other  legitimated  daughters  of  Louis  XIV.  there 
existed  this  difference  :  the  first  was  designated  in 
her  letters  of  legitimation  as  the  daughter  of  Made¬ 
moiselle  de  La  Vallière,  wlfile  in  those  of  the  other 
two  their  mother’s  name  was  not  mentioned.  This 
is  why  Saint-Simon,  distinguishing  between  the 
simple  and  the  double  adultery,  says  that  the  Prin¬ 
cess  de  Conti  had  a  named  and  recognized  mother, 
while  the  Duchesses  of  Bourbon  and  of  Chartres  had 
not. 

The-  Duchess  of  Bourbon,  who  was  at  first  called 
Mademoiselle  de  Nantes,  had  been  legitimated  in  the 
year  of  her  birth  by  letters  patent  in  which  Louis 
XIV.  without  naming  the  mothet,  had  contented 
himself  by  alleging  “  the  tenderness  which  nature 
gave  him  for  his  children,  and  many  other  reasons 
which  considerably  increased  these  sentiments  in 
him.”  The  young  Princess  was  still  a  little  girl 
when  she  married,  in  1685,  the  Duke  de  Bourbon, 
grandson  of  the  great  Condé. 

“  It  was  a  ridiculous  thing,”  says  the  Marquis  de 
Souches,  “to  see  these  two  marionettes  marry;  for  the 
Duke  de  Bourbon  was  excessively  small.  It  was 
feared  he  would  remain  a  dwarf,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  wait  until  July  before  Mademoiselle  de 
Nantes  would  be  twelve  years  old.” 

Madame  de  Caylus  says  that  the  great  Condé  and 
his  son  neglected  no  means  of  testifying  their  joy,  as 
they  had  omitted  nothing  to  bring  about  this  mar- 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


222 


liage.  As  she  grew  up,  the  Duchess  became  very 
pretty.  Saint-Simon  praises  “her  figure  formed  by 
the  tenderest  loves,  and  her  mind  made  to  enjoy 
them  to  her  liking,  but  without  being  dominated  by 
them.”  But  he  represents  her  at  the  same  time  as 
egoistic,  deceitful,  and  satirical.  “  She  was,”  he  says, 
“  the  siren  of  the  poets,  she  had  all  their  charms  and 
all  their  perils.”  She  loved  pleasure,  luxury,  and  ex¬ 
travagance.  Thanks  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  she 
obtained  in  1700  the  payment  of  her  debts  by  the  King, 
who  kept  her  secret  from  her  father-in-law  and  her 
husband.  If  Saint-Simon  and  Madame  de  Caylus  are 
to  be  believed,  her  conduct  was  not  exemplary.  She 
may  have  been  the  mistress  of  the  second  Prince  de 
Conti,^  he  who  had  been  elected  King  of  Poland  in 
1697,  after  having  fought  valiantly  at  Fleurus,  Stein- 
kerque,  Nerwinde,  and  in  Hungary,  but  who  was 
unable  to  take  possession  of  his  crown. 

“  The  Prince  de  Conti,”  says  Madame  de  Caylus, 
“  opened  his  eyes  to  the  charms  of  Madame  the  Duch¬ 
ess  by  dint  of  being  told  not  to  look  at  her;  he  loved 
her  passionately,  and  if,  on  her  part,  she  loved  any¬ 
thing,  it  was  certainly  him,  whatever  may  have  hap¬ 
pened  since.  .  .  .  This  affair  was  conducted  with 
such  admirable  prudence  that  they  never  gave  any 
one  any  hold  over  them.”  According  to  Saint-Simon, 
the  Prince  de  Conti  was  “  perfectly  happy  with 

1  François  Louis  de  Bourbon,  Prince  de  Conti.  Bom  in  1664, 
he  had  married  in  1688  the  sister  of  the  Duke  de  Bourbon,  grand¬ 
daughter  of  the  great  Condé. 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


223 


Madame  the  Duchess,  although  M.  the  Duke  was 
very  singular  and  strangely  jealous.” 

The  Duke  died  on  Shrove  Tuesday  in  the  year 
1709.  “  Madame  the  Duchess,  though  surrounded 

by  finery,  masquerading  habits,  and  a  crowd  of 
invited  guests,  lost  none  of  her  presence  of  mind. 
With  her  tearful  ways  she  extorted  from  the  King, 
though  against  his  will  and  tardily  enough,  an 
income  of  30,000  livres.  Then  her  tears  dried  up, 
and  her  good  humor  returned.  She  received  every¬ 
body  in  state.  She  was  on  her  bed,  in  a  widow’s 
gown,  bordered  and  lined  with  ermine.”  ^  The 
Prince  de  Conti  died  almost  at  the  same  time  as  the 
Duke.  “  Madame  the  Duchess,”  says  Saint-Simon, 
“  was  the  only  one  to  whom  he  had  not  been  incon¬ 
stant.  He  would  have  paid  her  the  homage  of  his 
grandeur,  and  she  would  have  shone  by  his  lustre. 
What  disheartening  memories,  with  no  consolation 
but  Lassé  junior  !  ^  For  want  of  a  better  she  became 
inordinately  attached  to  him,  and  the  attachment  has 
lasted  for  thirty  years.  .  .  .  She  was  not  made  for 
tears.  She  wanted  to  forget  her  troubles,  and  to  do 
so,  plunged  first  into  amusements  and  then  into  pleas¬ 
ures,  even  to  the  most  extreme  indelicacies,  consid¬ 
ering  her  age  and  condition.  She  tried  to  drown 
her  vexations  in  them,  and  she  succeeded.”  Saint- 


1  Memoirs  of  Saint-Simon. 

2  Lassé  was  a  brigadier  of  infantry.  According  to  Saint-Simon 
“he  became  openly  the  master  of  Madame  the  Duchess,  and  the 
director  of  her  afiairs.” 


224 


TUE  WOMEE  OF  ]'EESAILLES 


Simon's  exaggerations  are  to  be  suspected,  however  ; 
lie  is  always  malevolent,  and  often  unjust. 

The  suspicions  of  the  ruthless  Duke  and  peer  con¬ 
stantly  hover  over  the  private  lives  of  two  of  the 
daughters  of  Louis  XIV.  But  he  spares  the  third 
one,  at  all  events,  and  though  he  accuses  her  of  an 
almost  Satanic  pride,  he  insinuates  nothing  against 
the  purity  of  her  morals.  This  Princess  was  at  first 
styled  Mademoiselle  de  Blois  (the  same  name  as  the 
daughter  of  Mademoiselle  de  La  Vallière).  She  was 
fourteen  when  she  was  married,  in  1692,  to  the  Duke 
de  Chartres,  son  of  Monsieur,  Duke  of  Orleans. 
Saint-Simon  has  described  the  exasperation  of  the 
young  Prince’s  mother,  furious  at  seeing  her  son 
espouse  a  bastard  :  “  She  strode  up  and  down,  hand¬ 
kerchief  in  hand  and  weeping  unrestrainedly,  talking 
rather  loud,  gesticulating,  and  reminding  one  of  Ceres 
after  the  abduction  of  Proserpine. ....  People  gen¬ 
erally  going  to  await  the  breaking  up  the  council  and 
the  King’s  Mass  in  the  gallery,^  Madame  went  there  ; 
her  son  approached  her,  as  he  did  every  day,  to  kiss 
her  hand.  At  that  moment  Madame  gave  him  so 
resounding  a  slap  that  it  could  be  heard  several  paces 
off,  and  which,  in  presence  of  the  whole  court,  cov¬ 
ered  the  poor  Prince  with  confusion,  and  filled  the 
very  numerous  spectators,  of  whom  I  was  one,  with 
prodigious  astonishment.” 

1  The  Gallery  of  Mirrors  which  the  Kiug  passed  through  every 
morning  on  his  way  to  the  chapel  after  having  presided  at  the 
Ministerial  Council. 


TUE  DAUGUTEliS  OF  LOU  16  XIV. 


2-lb 


Let  us  note,  in  passing,  that  in  a  letter  to  the 
Rhinegrave  Louise,  Madame  says  that  a  rumor  is 
in  circulation  that  she  had  slapped  her  son  in  the 
face,  but  that  it  is  absolutely  false.  The  marriage 
was  celebrated  with  great  pomp.  Louis  XIV.  was 
gratified  to  find  the  great  lords  and  ladies  rivalling 
each  other  in  magnificence.  There  was  a  great  ball 
at  Versailles  where  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  danced 
for  the  first  time,  and  it  was  the  King  of  England 
who  gave  the  bridegroom  his  shirt.  A  month  later, 
March  19,  1692,  the  Duke  du  Maine,  the  eldest  of 
the  children  of  Louis  XIV.  by  Madame  de  Mont- 
espan,  married  Mademoiselle  de  Charolais,  daughter 
of  the  Prince  and  granddaughter  of  the  great  Condé. 
The  legitimated  thus  found  themselves  established 
in  the  court  of  Versailles  which  they  could  not  have 
left  without  sadness,  for  it  was  the  most  brilliant 
and  most  envied  abode  in  Europe. 

Louis  XIV.  who  had  originally  said  concerning 
the  offspring  of  adultery  :  “  These  persons  must  never 
marry,’/  caused  them  to  make  magnificent  marriages. 
Curious  thing,  the  Duchess  of  Chartres  naively 
fancied  that  she  had  honored  the  King’s  nephew  by 
marrying  him.  Madame  wrote  on  this  head  :  “  My 
son’s  wife  thinks  she  did  him  a  great  honor  in  mar¬ 
rying  him.  She  says  he  is  only  the  nephew  of  the 
King,  while  she  is  his  daughter.  This  is  to  forget 
that  one  is  also  the  son  of  his  mother.  Never  would 
she  comprehend  that.”  Duclos  says  that  people 
jocosely  compared  her  to  Minerva  who,  recognizing 


226 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


no  mother,  prided,  herself  on  being  the  daughter  of 
Jupiter.  Haughty  as  she  was,  this  Princess  was 
timidity  itself  in  presence  of  Louis  XIV.  “The 
King  could  make  her  faint  with  a  single  severe  look, 
and  Madame  de  Maintenon,  too,  perhaps;  at  all 
events  she  trembled  before  her,  and  about  the  most 
ordinary  things,  and  in  public  she  never  replied  to 
them  without  stammering  and  looking  frightened. 
I  say  replied,  for  to  address  the  King  first  was  be¬ 
yond  her  strength.”^  The  Duchess  de  Chartres  was 
none  the  less  a  woman  of  great  intelligence,  “having 
a  natural  eloquence,  a  justness  of  expression,  and  a 
fluency  and  singularity  in  the  choice  of  terms  which 
always  surprised  one,  together  with  that  manner 
peculiar  to  Madame  de  Montespan  and  her  sisters 
and  which  was  transmitted  to  none  but  those  inti¬ 
mate  Avith  her  or  to  those  whom  she  had  brought 
up.  In  spite  of  all  her  intelligence,  the  Duchess 
was  unable  either  to  gain  the  attachment  of  her  hus¬ 
band  or  to  give  a  good  education  to  her  daughter, 
who  married  in  1710  the  Duke  de  Berry,  third  son  of 
the  grand  Dauphin. 

Saint-Simon,  Avhose  tongue  is  always  envenomed, 
has  ill-treated  no  woman  in  his  Memoirs  so  much  as 
this  poor  Duchess  de  Berry  who,  a  widow  at  seven¬ 
teen,  died  at  twenty-four.  If  one  must  believe  the 
spiteful  Duke  and  peer,  she  was  a  bad  wife,  a  bad 


^  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon. 
2  Idem. 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  LOUIS  XIV. 


227 


daughter,  and  a  had  Christian  ;  she  got  drunk  ;  she 
mocked  at  religion;  and  she  wanted  La  Haye,  her 
husband’s  equerry,  to  elope  with  her.  “She  was  a 
prodigy  of  art,  pride,  ingratitude,  and  folly,  and  also 
of  debauchery  and  stubbornness.”  The  Duchess  was 
very  wrong,  without  any  doubt;  "but  we  incline  to 
think  that  Saint-Simon  exaggerates.  Possibly  she 
was  neither  better  nor  worse  than  many  women  of 
her  time.  It  is  certain,  at  any  rate,  that  she  grieved 
her  mother,  already  much  tormented  by  the  rivalries 
and  dissensions  of  the  court. 

The  three  daughters  of  Louis  XIV.  were  not 
always  on  good  terms  with  each  other.  There  was 
a  time  when  their  quarrels  multiplied  to  such  a 
degree  that  the  King  threatened,  if  they  continued, 
to  intern  all  three  of  them  in  their  country  houses. 
The  menace  was  effectual,  and  thenceforward  they 
disputed  on  the  sly.  Louis  XIV.  loved  his  daugh¬ 
ters  greatly  in  spite  of  their  defects.  He  was  at 
the  same  time  a  just  king  and  an  affectionate 
father.'  He  showed  a  real  tenderness,  a  solici¬ 
tude,  and  a  devotion  in  his  treatment  of  them  which 
never  altered.  When  they  were  ill  he  was  grieved 
and  troubled;  he  would  rise  several  times  in  the 
night  to  go  and  visit  them.  Madame  de  Caylus 
relates  that  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon  having  been 
seized  with  small-pox  at  Fontainebleau,  Louis  XIV. 
was  absolutely  determined  to  go  to  see  her.  The 
Prince  (the  great  Coudé)  stood  at  the  door  to  pre¬ 
vent  him  from  entering.  There  a  great  struggle 


228 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


took  place  between  paternal  love  and  the  zeal  of  a 
courtier,  a  struggle  “  very  glorious  for  Madame  the 
Duchess.”  Louis  XIV.  was  the  stronger  and  went 
in,  in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  the  great  Condé. 
Thus  behaved  this  King  who  can  only  be  treated  as 
an  egotist  by  those  who  know  him  badly  or  who  do 
not  know  him  at  all. 


XVI 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 
HE  court  was  all  agog  because  a  little  girl  of 


JL  eleven  years  had  just  arrived  in  France.  This 
child  was  Marie-Adélaïde,  the  future  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy,  daughter  of  Victor  Amadeus  II.,  Duke  of 
Savoy.  On  Sunday,  November  4,  1696,  the  town  of 
Montargis  was  en  fête.  The  hells  were  ringing  with 
all  their  might.  Louis  XIV.,  leaving  Fontaine¬ 
bleau  in  the  morning,  had  come  to  meet  the  young 
Princess  destined  to  espouse  his  grandson,  and  all 
eyes  were  bent  on  the  first  interview  between  her 
and  the  Sun-King.  He  received  her  as  she  was 
alighting  from  the  carriage,  and  said  to  Dangeau: 
“Will  you  allow  me  to  fill  your  post  for  to¬ 
day?”  (Dangeau  was  chevalier  of  honor  to  the 
Princess.) 

The  newcomer  charmed  the  King  from  the  first 
moment  by  the  distinction  of  her  manners,  her  native 
prettiness,  her  little  responses  full  of  grace  and 
spirit.  Louis  XIV.  embraced  her  in  the  carriage; 
she  kissed  his  hand  several  times  while  ascending  the 
staircase  that  led  to  the  apartment  she  was  to  occupy. 


229 


230 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


When  the  King  returned  to  his  chamber,  Dangeau 
took  the  liberty  of  asking  him  whether  he  were  con¬ 
tented  with  the  Princess.  “I  am  too  much  so;  I  can 
scarcely  contain  my  joy.”  Then,  turning  toward 
Monsieur  he  added:  “How  I  wish  that  his  poor 
mother  could  be  here  a  few  moments  to  witness  the 
joy  we  are  having.”  He  wrote  afterwards  to  Madame 
de  Maintenon  :  “  She  let  me  speak  first,  and  after¬ 
wards  she  answered  me  very  well,  but  with  a  little 
embarrassment  that  would  have  pleased  you.  I  led 
her  to  her  chamber  through  the  crowd,  letting  them 
see  her  from  time  to  time  by  bringing  the  torches 
near  her  face.  She  stood  this  walk  and  the  lights 
with  grace  and  modesty.  She  has  the  best  grace 
and  the  most  beautiful  shape  that  I  ever  saw,  dressed 
fit  to  be  painted  and  her  hair  also,  very  bright  and 
beautiful  eyes  with  admirable  black  lashes,  com¬ 
plexion  very  smooth,  white  and  red  as  one  could 
wish,  and  a  great  quantity  of  the  finest  fair  hair 
that  one  ever  saw.  .  .  .  She  has  failed  in  noth¬ 
ing,  and  has  conducted  herself  as  you  might  have 
done.” 

Through  her  mother,  Marie-Adélaïde  was  the 
granddaughter  of  that  beautiful  Henrietta  of  Eng¬ 
land  whose  life  and  death  have  been  immortalized 
by  Bossuet  in  ber  funeral  oration.  She  was  about 
to  revive  the  charm  of  this  greatly  regretted  princess, 
and  her  presence  at  Versailles  renewed  the  joy  and 
animation  of  happier  days.  She  was  installed,  im¬ 
mediately  on  her  arrival,  in  the  chamber  formerly 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


231 


occupied  by  the  Queen  and  afterwards  by  the  Bava¬ 
rian  dauphiness.^ 

The  King  made  her  a  present  of  the  beautiful 
menagerie  of  Versailles  which  is  opposite  the  Tria¬ 
non  palace.  Never  was  a  grandfather  more  tenderl}- 
affectionate  towards  his  granddaughter.  He  took 
pains  to  contrive  amusements  and  recreations  for  her. 
Madame  (the  Princess  Palatine)  wrote,  November  8, 
1696:  “Every  one  is  becoming  a  child  again.  The 
Princess  d’Harcourt  and  Madame  de  Pontchartrain 
played  at  blindman’s  buff  day  before  yesterday  with 
the  Princess  and  Monsieur  the  Dauphin  ;  Monsieur, 
the  Princess  de  Conte,  Madame  de  Ventadour,  my 
two  other  ladies  and  myself  played  it  yesterday.” 

Naturally,  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  charged 
with  finishing  the  education  of  the  little  Princess. 
The  first  time  she  took  her  to  Saint-Cyr  she  had  her 
received  with  great  ceremony.  The  superior  com¬ 
plimented  her;  the  community,  in  long  mantles, 
awaited  her  at  the  door  of  the  cloister  ;  all  the  pupils 
were  ranged  in  double  lines  through  which  she 
passed  on  her  way  to  the  church;  little  girls  of  her 
own  age  recited  a  dialogue  tinctured  with  delicate 
praise.  The  Princess  was  delighted  and  asked  to 
come  again.  Afterwards  Madame  de  Maintenon 
took  her  regularly  to  Saint-Cyr  two  or  three  times  a 
week,  to  spend  the  entire  day  and  follow  the  lessons 


'  Room  No.  115  of  the  Notice  du  Musée  de  Versailles,  by  Eudore 
Soulié. 


•232 


TUE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


of  the  red  class.  There  was  no  more  etiquette. 
Marie-Adélaïde  wore  the  same  uniform  as  the  pupils, 
and  was  called  Mademoiselle  de  Lastic.  “  She  was 
good,  affable,  gracious  to  everybody,  occupying  her¬ 
self  with  the  different  affairs  of  the  ladies,  and  with 
all  the  works  and  studies  of  the  pupils  ;  subjecting 
herself  frankly  to  all  the  practices  of  the  house,  even 
to  silence  ;  running  and  playing  with  the  reds  in  the 
long  alleys  of  the  garden  ;  going  with  them  to  choir, 
confession,  and  catechism.  At  other  times  she  put 
on  the  habit  of  the  ladies,  and  did  the  honors  of  the 
house  to  some  illustrious  visitor,  notably  the  Queen 
of  England.”^ 

Louis  XIV.,  charmed  with  the  Princess,  decided 
that  she  should  be  married  the  very  day  she  was 
twelve  years  old.  December  7,  1797,  she  espoused 
Louis  of  France,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  who  was  fifteen 
and  a  half  years  old.  The  bridegroom  wore  a  black 
mantle  embroidered  with  gold,  and  a  white  doublet 
with  diamond  buttons;  the  mantle  was  lined  with 
rose  satin.  The  bride  had  a  robe  and  under  petticoat 
of  cloth  of  silver,  bordered  with  precious  stones,  and 
she  wore  the  crown  diamonds. ^  Cardinal  de  Coislin 
gave  the  young  couple  the  nuptial  benediction  in 
the  chapel  of  Versailles.  After  Mass  there  was  a 
grand  banquet  for  the  royal  family  in  the  room  known 
as  the  ante-chamber  of  the  Queen’s  apartment.® 


1  Mémoires  des  Dames  de  Saint- Cyr. 

*  Letter  of  the  Princess  Palatine,  December  7,  1697. 
®  Room  Xo.  117  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BUBGUNDY 


233 


In  the  evening  the  court  assembled  in  the  Salon  of 
Peace  ^  to  witness  the  fireworks  set  off  at  the  end  of 
the  Swiss  lake,  and  then  to  take  supper  served,  like 
the  banquet,  in  the  ante-chamber  of  the  Queen’s  apart¬ 
ment.  After  supper  they  passed  on  into  the  sleep¬ 
ing  chamber  of  the  Duchess, ^  where  there  was  a  bed 
of  green  velvet  embroidered  with  gold  and  silver, 
which  was  blessed  by  Cardinal  de  Coislin.  A 
moment  later,  the  King  sent  all  the  men  out  of  the 
room.  The  Duke  of  Burgundy  disrobed  before  the 
ladies,  and  the  Queen  of  England  handed  him  his 
shirt.  As  soon  as  the  couple  had  been  put  to  bed, 
Louis  XIV.  summoned  the  ambassador  of  Savoy  and 
showed  him  that  they  were  lying  down.  The  am¬ 
bassador  immediately  sent  a  gentleman  to  carry  this 
news  to  Victor  Amadeus. 

Nevertheless,  this  marriage,  concluded  amidst  so 
many  splendors,  was  as  yet  merely  for  form’s  sake, 
seeing  that  the  pair  were  so  extremely  youthful. 
The  King  would  not  permit  his  grandson  to  kiss 
even  the  tip  of  the  Duchess’s  finger  until  they  should 
actually  come  together.  Hence  the  young  Duke 
arose  again  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes,  dressed 
himself  in  the  chamber  and  returned  to  his  own  room 
through  the  hall  of  the  guards. 

There  was  a  grand  ball  in  the  Gallery  of  Mirrors, 
December  11.  The  pyramids  of  candles  glittered  even 


1  Room  No.  114  of  the  Notice  du  Musée, 

2  Room  No.  115  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 


234 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


more  than  the  lustres  and  girandoles.  Louis  XIV. 
had  said  he  would  be  pleased  to  have  the  court  display 
great  luxury,  and  himself,  though  for  a  long  while 
he  had  worn  none  but  very  simple  costumes,  had  put 
on  a  superb  one.  It  was  who  should  surpass  the 
others  in  richness  and  invention.  There  was  hardly 
silver  and  gold  enough  to  be  had.  The  King,  who 
had  encouraged  all  these  expenses,  said  notwith¬ 
standing,  that  he  could  not  understand  how  husbands 
could  be  foolish  enough  to  let  themselves  be  ruined 
by  their  wives’  dresses. 

Two  days  after  the  marriage  the  Duchess  wanted 
to  show  herself  in  state  dress  to  her  friends  at  Saint- 
Cyr.  She  was  all  in  white,  and  her  robe  was  so 
heavily  embroidered  with  silver  that  she  could  hardly 
bear  the  weight  of  it.  The  community  received  the 
Princess  in  great  pomp  and  conducted  her  to  the 
church,  where  hymns  were  chanted. 

The  separation  of  the  young  spouses  lasted  for  two 
years  after  the  ceremony  of  their  marriage,  and, 
according  to  Dangeau’s  journal,  did  not  end  until 
toward  the  close  of  1699.  Until  then  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  came  to  see  the  Duchess  every  day. 
They  were  even  allowed  to  chat  together,  but  there 
were  always  ladies  in  the  room  during  their  inter¬ 
views. 

The  amiable  Princess  is  now  one  of  the  most  at¬ 
tractive  of  women.  Without  her  all  would  wither  at 
this  court,  which  would  resemble  a  magnificent  con¬ 
vent.  The  flowers  would  be  less  fair,  the  fields  less 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


235 


gay,  the  streams  less  clear.  Thanks  to  her  seduc¬ 
tive  charm  everything  revives,  all  lights  up  under  the 
rays  of  a  vernal  sun.  She  loves  Louis  XIV.  sin¬ 
cerely.  One  cannot  approach  this  exceptional  man, 
for  whom  the  word  prestige  would  have  to  be  in¬ 
vented  if  it  did  not  exist,  and  who  is  as  affectionate, 
good,  and  affable  as  he  is  majestic  and  imposing. 
The  admiration  professed  for  him  by  the  young  Prin¬ 
cess  is  sincere.  Grateful  and  flattered  by  the  kind¬ 
ness  he  shows  her,  she  venerates  him  as  the  most 
glorious  representative  of  divine  right,  and  while 
she  venerates  she  amuses  him.  She  flings  her  arms 
about  his  neck  at  any  time,  she  sits  down  on  his 
knees,  she  diverts  him  by  every  sort  of  badinage,  she 
looks  at  his  papers,  she  opens  and  reads  his  letters  in 
his  presence.  A  continual  succession  of  pleasure 
parties  and  entertainments  goes  on.  Followed  by  a 
train  of  women  of  twenty,  the  Princess  loves  to  sail 
in  a  gondola  on  the  grand  canal  of  the  Park  of  Ver¬ 
sailles,  and  to  remain  there  several  hours  of  the  night, 
sometimes  until  sunrise.  Hunts,  collations,  come¬ 
dies,  serenades,  illuminations,  sailing  parties,  fire¬ 
works,  every  day  a  new  diversion  is  organized. 

The  King  wishes  that  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy 
should  please  herself  in  this  court  of  which  she  is  the 
ornament  and  the  hope.  She  must  smooth  out  the 
wrinkles  of  the  monarch,  who  is  weary  of  fame  and 
pleasures.  She  must  be  the  good  genius,  the  en¬ 
chantress  of  Versailles.  The  mirrors  of  the  great 
gallery  must  reflect  her  splendid  toilets,  her  dazzling 


•236 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VEBSAILLES 


ornaments.  She  must  appear  in  the  gardens  like  an 
Armida,  in  the  forests  like  a  nymph,  on  the  water 
like  a  siren. 

In  the  hall  of  the  Queen’s  guards  ^  there  may  be 
seen  at  present  a  full  length  portrait  of  the  Princess. 
She  is  standing,  dressed  in  a  robe  of  cloth  of  silver, 
and  holds  in  her  left  hand  a  bouquet  of  orange  flowers. 
A  woman  in  Polish  costume  is  holding  up  the  train 
of  her  lilied  mantle.  In  front  of  her  a  cupid  is  hold¬ 
ing  a  cushion  on  which  flowers  are  lying.  At  the 
back  of  the  picture  one  sees  a  garden  and  a  pedestal 
on  which  is  the  signature  of  the  painter:  Santerre, 
1709.  What  the  artist  has  done  so  well  with  his 
brush  Saint-Simon  has  done  still  better  with  his  pen. 
The  sarcastic  Duke  and  peer  becomes  an  enthusiastic 
admirer,  a  poet,  when  he  describes  the  charms  of  the 
Princess  :  her  eyes  the  most  beautiful  and  speaking  in 
the  world,  her  gallant,  gracious,  majestic  pose  of  the 
head,  her  expressive  smile,  her  gait  like  that  of  a 
goddess  on  the  clouds.  He  admires  her  moral  quali¬ 
ties  no  less,  even  while  finding  defects  in  her.  It 
pleases  him  to  recognize  that  she  is  sweet,  accessi¬ 
ble,  candid,  though  with  due  reserve,  compassionate, 
grieved  to  cause  the  least  sadness,  full  of  considera¬ 
tion  for  all  who  come  near  her,  gracious  to  those 
about  her,  kind  to  her  domestics,  friendly  to  her 
ladies,  and  the  soul  of  the  court  which  adores  her; 
“all  is  lacking  to  every  one  in  her  absence,  all  is 


1  Room  No.  118  of  the  Notice  du  3Iusée. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


237 


replenished  by  her  presence,  her  extreme  kindness 
makes  her  infinitely  depended  on,  and  her  manners 
attach  all  hearts.” 

Nevertheless  calumny  does  not  spare  her.  People 
accuse  her  in  a  whisper  with  certain  inconsistencies 
which  malice  bruits  about  and  exaggerates.  They 
go  so  far  as  to  pretend  that  two  lovers,  MM.  de  Mau- 
levrier  and  de  Nangis  are  extremely  well  treated 
by  her.  They  wish  to  discover  serious  faults  in 
what  is  nothing  but  the  desire  to  please,  natural  to 
all  pretty  women.  Madame  de  Caylus  says  concern¬ 
ing  the  passion  attributed  to  the  Duchess  for  M.  de 
Nangis  :  “  I  am  convinced  that  this  intrigue  was  car¬ 
ried  on  by  looks,  or  at  most  by  letters.  I  am  per¬ 
suaded  of  this  for  two  reasons,  one  that  Madame  the 
Dauphiness  was  too  well  guarded,  and  the  other  that 
Nangis  was  too  much  in  love  with  another  woman 
who  watched  him  closely,  and  who  has  said  to  me 
that  at  the  times  when  he  was  suspected  of  being 
with  Madame  the  Dauphiness  she  was  very  sure  that 
he  was  not,  because  he  was  with  her.  It  was  much 
rather  a  gallantry  than  a  passion.”  Surrounded  by 
a  court  of  witty,  gossiping,  and  often  light  young 
Avomen,  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  must  more  than 
once  have  been  attacked  by  malevolent  insinuations 
and  the  little  perfidies,  which  the  jealousy  inherent 
in  the  feminine  character  allows  itself  against  prin¬ 
cesses  ak  well  as  against  private  persons.  The 
Duchess  understood  it  perfectly  and  was  moved  and 
afflicted  by  it. 


238 


2  UE  WOMEU  OF  VERSAILLES 


Other  causes  for  sadness  threw  their  shadows  over 
an  existence  apparently  so  fair  and  joyous.  Victor 
Amadeus  had  quarrelled  with  France,  and  the  house 
of  Savoy  was  incurring  the  greatest  dangers.  The 
Duchess  of  Burgundy  was  obliged  to  conceal  her  sen¬ 
timents  for  her  former  country  in  the  depths  of  her 
heart,  but  the  more  necessary  it  was  to  hide  them  the 
more  vivacious  they  became.  What  a  grief  to  know 
that  her  pregnant  mother,  her  infirm  grandmother, 
her  sick  brothers,  and  the  Duke,  her  father,  were 
wandering  on  the  Piedmont  road,  threatened  with 
utter  ruin.  June  21,  1706,  she  wrote  to  her  grand¬ 
mother,^  the  widow  of  Charles  Emmanuel  :  “  J udge 
what  is  my  anxiety  about  all  that  is  happening  to 
you,  loving  you  so  tenderly,  and  having  all  the  affec¬ 
tion  possible  for  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my 
brothers.  I  cannot  see  them  in  such  an  unfortunate 
condition  without  having  tears  in  my  eyes.  ...  I 
am  in  a  sadness  which  no  amusement  can  diminish, 
and  which  will  not  depart,  my  dear  grandmother, 
until  your  sorrows  do.  .  .  .  Send  me  news  of  all 
that  is  dearest  to  me  in  the  world.”  ^ 

The  Duchess  of  Burgundy  suffered  simultaneously 


1  Marie-Jeanne-Baptiste,  called  Madame  Eoyale,  daughter  of 
Charles  Amadeus  of  Savoy  and  Elizabeth  of  Vendôme,  espoused 
in  1G65  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  Charles  Emmanuel  II.,  father  of  Victor 
Amadeus  II. 

2  See  the  interesting  correspondence  of  the  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy  and  her  sister  the  Queen  of  Spain,  wife  of  Philip  V.,  pub¬ 
lished,  with  a  very  good  preface,  by  Madame  the  Countess  Della 
Eocca. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


239 


from  the  disasters  of  both  her  countries,  Savoy  and 
France.  “Make  us  some  saints  to  obtain  peace  for 
us,”  said  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  the  inmates  of 
Saint-Cyr.  The  Duchess,  as  Labeaumelle  remarks, 
exhibited  in  the  perilous  circumstances  of  the  coun¬ 
try  “  the  dignity  of  the  first  woman  of  the  State,  the 
sentiments  of  a  Roman  matron  for  Rome,  and  the 
agitations  of  a  soul  which  desired  the  good  with  an 
ardor  beyond  her  age.” 

The  hour  of  great  sorrows  had  arrived.  As  M. 
Capefigue  has  said  so  well  :  “  The  difficult  time  for 
a  powerful  and  fortunate  King  is  old  age.  Though 
the  head  remain  firm,  the  arms  grow  feeble,  gar¬ 
lands  wither,  even  laurels  take  a  grayish  tint.  Peo¬ 
ple  respect  you  still,  but  they  do  not  love  you  any 
more;  cocked  hats  with  waving  plumes  bring  out 
the  wrinkles  of  the  face  and  the  lines  of  the  fore¬ 
head;  the  gold-headed  cane  is  no  longer  a  sort  of 
sceptre,  but  a  staff  which  sustains  the  feeble  legs  and 
the  stooping  body.”  For  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy 
the  aging  Louis  XIV.  preserved  all  his  prestige. 
She  loved  him  sincerely.  “  The  public,”  says  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Caylus,  “  has  difficulty  in  comprehending 
that  princes  act  simply  and  naturally,  because  they 
do  not  see  them  near  enough  at  hand  to  judge,  and 
because  the  marvellous  that  they  are  always  seeking  is 
never  found  in  simple  conduct  and  orderly  senti¬ 
ments.  Hence  they  wish  to  believe  that  the  Duchess 
resembled  her  father,  and  that  at  the  age  of  eleven, 
when  she  came  to  France,  she  was  as  crafty  and 


240 


TUE  W03IEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


politic  as  he  was,  and  affected  for  the  King  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon  a  tenderness  she  did  not 
possess.  I,  who  have  had  the  honor  of  seeing  her 
very  near,  judge  otherwise.  I  have  seen  her  weep¬ 
ing  in  such  good  faith  over  the  great  age  of  these 
two  persons,  who  she  thought  must  die  before  her, 
that  I  cannot  douljt  her  tenderness  for  the  King.” 

Louis  XIV.,  who  knew  the  human  heart,  perceived 
with  his  usual  perspicacity  that  the  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy  had  a  sincere  affection  for  him.  It  was  on 
that  account  that  he  displayed  an  exceptional  attach¬ 
ment  for  her.  Like  a  rose  blooming  in  a  cemetery, 
the  young  and  enchanting  Princess  charmed  and  con¬ 
soled  the  sorrowful  years  of  the  great  King.  It  was 
the  last  smile  of  fortune,  the  last  ray  of  sunlight. 
But  alas  !  the  fair  rose  was  to  bloom  but  a  day,  and 
yet  a  little  longer  and  all  would  be  enshrouded  in 
gloom. 

Since  1711,  when  Monseigneur  died,  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy  had  been  Dauphin,  and  SainhSimon  re¬ 
ports  that  the  Duchess  said,  in  speaking  of  the  ladies 
who  criticised  her  :  “  They  will  have  to  reckon  with 
me,  and  I  will  be  their  queen.”  “  Alas  !  ”  he  adds, 
“she  believed  it,  the  charming  Princess,  and  who 
would  not  have  believed  it  with  her?”  And  yet, 
according  to  the  Princess  Palatine,  she  was  convinced 
that  her  end  was  near.  Madame  thus  expresses  her¬ 
self:  “  A  learned  astrologer  of  Turin,  having  drawn 
the  horoscope  of  Madame  the  Dauphiness,  had  pre- 
tUcted  to  her  all  that  would  happen  to  her,  and  that 


TUE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


241 


she  would  die  in  her  twenty-seventh  year.  She  often 
spoke  of  it.  One  day  she  said  to  her  husband  :  ‘  See, 
the  time  is  coming  when  I  must  die.  You  cannot 
remain  without  a  wife  on  account  of  your  rank  and 
your  devotion.  Tell  me,  I  entreat  you,  whom  you 
will  marry  ?  ’  He  answered  :  ‘  I  hope  God  will  never 
punish  me  enough  to  let  me  see  you  die  ;  and  if  this 
misfortune  must  befall  me,  I  shall  never  remarry, 
for  I  should  follow  you  to  the  grave  in  eight  days. 
.  .  .’  While  the  Dauphiness  was  still  in  good  health, 
fresh  and  gay,  she  often  said:  ‘Well,  I  must  rejoice, 
because  I  cannot  rejoice  long,  for  I  shall  die  this 
year.’  I  thought  it  was  a  pleasantry  ;  but  the  thing 
was  only  too  real.  When  she  fell  ill  she  said  she 
would  not  recover.’.’ 

The  nearer  the  Dauphiness  approached  the  fatal 
time  the  better  she  grew.  One  might  have  thought 
she  wanted  to  deepen  the  grief  that  would  be  caused 
by  her  premature  death.  The  Princess  Palatine, 
ordinarily  so  malevolent,  so  sarcastic,  avows  it  her¬ 
self  :  “  Having,”  says  she,  “  enough  intelligence  to 
note  her  faults,  the  Dauphiness  could  not  do  other 
than  try  to  correct  them  ;  this,  in  fact,  is  what  she 
did,  and  to  such  a  point  as  to  excite  general  astonish¬ 
ment.  She  continued  thus  to  the  end.” 

Madame  the  Viscountess  de  Noailles  ^  has  said  in 


1  Lettres  inédites  de  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  preceded  by  a 
short  notice  of  her  life  by  Madame  the  Viscountess  de  Noailles. 
A  volume  of  fifty  pages  of  which  only  a  small  immber  of  copies  has 
been  printed. 


242 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


the  most  touching  way:  “From  time  to  time  history 
offers  us  attractive  personages  who  move  the  reader 
even  to  affection.  ,  .  .  Providence  frequently  with¬ 
draws  them  from  the  world  in  their  youth,  still 
adorned  with  the  charms  which  time  removes,  and  the 
hopes  which  it  might  have  realized.  The  Duchess  of 
Burgundy  was  one  of  these  graceful  apparitions.” 

Attacked  with  a  terrible  malady  which  was,  it 
appears,  the  measles,  but  which  was  attributed  to 
poison,  the  Duchess  was  taken  away  in  a  few  days 
from  the  King  of  whom  she  was  the  consolation,  the 
husband  who  idolized  her,  the  court  whose  ornament 
she  was,  and  France  of  which  she  was  the  hope.  She 
died  with  equal  dignity  and  courage  in  the  most 
religious  sentiments. 

It  was  in  her  bedroom  at  Versailles,^  on  Friday, 
February  12,  1712,  between  eight  and  nine  in  the 
evening,  that  she  breathed  her  last.  Almost  exactly 
two  years  before,  in  the  same  room,  she  had  brought 
into  the  world  the  prince  who  was  to  be  called  Louis 
XV.^  Her  husband’s  grief  was  such  that  he  could 
not  survive  a  wife  so  beloved.  Six  days  afterward 
he  followed  her  to  the  tomb.  “  France,”  cries  Saint- 
Simon,  “fell  at  last  beneath  this  final  chastisement. 
God  had  shown  her  a  prince  whom  she  did  not 
deserve.  The  earth  was  not  worthy  of  him  ;  he  died 
ripe  already  for  a  blissful  eternity.”  The  very  day 


1  Room  No.  115  of  the  Notice  du  Musée. 

2  Louis  XV.  was  horn  Pehmai’y  5,  1710. 


TUE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


243 


of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy’s  death  Madame  wrote  : 
“I  am  so  overwhelmed  that  I  cannot  recover;  I 
scarcely  know  what  I  am  saying.  You  who  have  a 
good  heart  will  certainly  pity  us,  for  the  sadness  that 
prevails  here  cannot  be  described.” 

Saint-Simon  pretends  that  the  sorrow  caused  Louis 
XIV.  by  the  death  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  “was 
the  only  real  one  he  ever  had  in  his  life.”  This  is  not 
exact.  The  great  King  had  profoundly  regretted  his 
mother,  and  Madame  (the  Princess  Palatine)  thus 
expresses  herself  concerning  the  grief  that  over¬ 
whelmed  him  in  the  death  of  his  only  son,  the  grand 
Dauphin  :  “  I  saw  the  King  yesterday  at  eleven 
o’clock  ;  he  is  a  prey  to  such  affliction  that  he  would 
soften  a  rock  ;  he  does  not  fret,  however,  he  speaks 
to  everyone  with  a  resigned  sadness,  and  gives  his 
orders  with  great  firmness,  but  the  tears  come  into 
his  eyes  every  moment,  and  he  stifles  his  sobs.”  ^ 
Such  was  the  man  whom  superficial  minds  character¬ 
ize  as  egoistic  and  insensitive. 

On  February  22,  1712,  the  bodies  of  the  Duchess 
and  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  were  borne  from  Ver¬ 
sailles  to  Saint-Denis  on  a  single  bier.  The  Dau¬ 
phin,  their  eldest  son,  died  the  following  March  8. 
He  was  five  years  and  some  months  old.  Thus  the 
father,  the  mother,  and  the  eldest  son  disappeared 
within  twenty-four  days.  Three  dauphins  had  died 
in  a  single  year. 


1  Letter  of  April  16,  1711. 


244 


TEE  WOMEE  OF  VEllSAILLES 


These  events,  so  horrible  in  themselves,  were  made 
still  more  so  by  the  widely  prevalent  false  idea  that 
these  premature  deaths  were  the  result  of  poison. 
The  Duke  of  Orleans  was  most  perfidiously  and 
unjustly  accused  of  being  the  author  of  these  crimes, 
and  efforts  were  made  to  induce  Louis  XIV.  to  enter¬ 
tain  this  abominable  suspicion.  With  the  Duchess 
of  Burgundy  “were  eclipsed  joy,  pleasures,  amuse¬ 
ments  even,  and  every  sort  of  favors.  ...  If  the 
court  existed  after  her,  it  was  only  to  languish.”  ^ 
And  yet,  under  the  weight  of  so  many  trials  the 
great  soul  of  Louis  XIV.  was  not  enfeebled. 
“  Amidst  the  lugubrious  débris  of  his  august  house, 
Louis  remains  firm  in  the  faith.  God  had  breathed 
upon  his  numerous  posterity,  and  in  an  instant  it  was 
effaced  like  characters  written  on  the  sand.  Of  all 
the  princes  who  had  surrounded  him,  and  who  formed 
as  it  were  the  rays  and  the  glory  of  his  crown,  there 
remained  but  one  feeble  spark  even  then  on  the  point 
of  being  extinguished.  He  adores  Him  who  dis¬ 
poses  of  crowns  and  sceptres,  and  perhaps  he  sees  in 
these  domestic  losses  the  mercy  which  is  completing 
the  effacement  from  the  book  of  the  Lord’s  justice 
the  traces  of  his  former  guilty  passions.”^ 

All  France  was  in  despair.  “This  time  of  deso¬ 
lation,”  says  Voltaire,  “left  so  profound  an  impres¬ 
sion  in  hearts  that,  during  the  minority  of  Louis  XV. 


1  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  de  Saint-Simon. 

2  Massillon,  Orasion  funèbre  de  Louis  le  Grand. 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


245 


I  have  seen  many  persons  who  could  not  speak  of 
these  losses  without  shedding  tears.”  ^ 

M.  Michelet,  who  cannot  be  accused  of  exaggerated 
admiration  for  the  great  century,  is  himself  affected 
while  relating  the  death  of  the  charming  Duchess 
of  Burgundy.  “The  court,”  he  says,  “was  literally 
as  if  stunned  by  the  blow.  One  still  weeps,  a  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty  years  afterward,  in  reading  the  heart¬ 
rending  pages  in  which  Saint-Simon  records  his 

grief.”  2 

Duclos  has  claimed,  without  indicating  the  source 
whence  he  obtained  his  information,  that  on  the 
death  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  Madame  de 
Maintenon  and  the  King  found  in  a  casket  that  had 
belonged  to  the  Princess,  papers  which  extorted  from 
the  King  the  exclamation  :  “  The  little  rogue  be¬ 
trayed  us.”  From  such  a  speech,  so  unlikely  from 
the  mouth  of  Louis  XIV.,  Duclos  infers  a  corre¬ 
spondence  in  which  the  daughter  of  Victor  Amadeus 
had  surrendered  State  secrets  to  him.  This  we 
believe  to  be  one  of  those  numerous  hearsays,  from 
which  history  is  too  often  written.  The  archives  of 
Turin  have  preserved  no  trace  of  this  pretended 
correspondence,  which  is  neither  true  nor  probable. 
Assuredly  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  did  not  forget 
her  native  land.  But  after  bidding  adieu  to  Savoy, 
she  had  no  longer  any  country  but  France. 


1  Voltaire,  Siècle  de  Louis  XIV. 

*  Michelet,  Louis  XIV.  et  le  duc  de  Bourgogne. 


246 


THE  W03IEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Doubtless,  Italy  may  count  among  the  fairest 
pearls  of  her  casket  those  two  intelligent  and  allur¬ 
ing  sisters  who  both  died  so  prematurely  and  left 
behind  them  so  touching  a  remembrance  :  the  Duch¬ 
ess  of  Burgundy  and  her  sister  the  Queen  of  Spain, 
the  valiant  consort  of  Philip  V.  But  the  greater 
part  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy’s  destiny  was  ful¬ 
filled  in  France,  and  her  portrait  must  figure  in  the 
chateau  of  Versailles. 

How  many  times  in  1871,  when  the  Ministry  of 
Foreign  Affairs  was,  so  to  say,  encamped  in  the  midst 
of  the  Queen’s  apartments,  did  we  evoke  the  souvenir 
of  the  charming  Princess  in  this  chamber  where  she 
slept  from  the  time  of  her  arrival  at  Versailles,  and 
where,  sixteen  years  and  a  half  later,  she  breathed 
her  last  sigh  !  It  was  there  that  at  eleven  years  of 
age,  torn  forever  from  her  family,  her  friends,  her 
country,  she  found  herself  alone  among  the  splen¬ 
dors  of  a  strange  palace.  ’Twas  there  the  child 
grew,  became  a  young  girl,  and  then  a  young  woman, 
increasing  daily  in  graces  and  attractions.  There, 
in  the  silence  of  the  night  she  thought  she  beheld 
the  brilliant  phantoms  of  the  world,  the  seductive 
images  against  which,  perhaps,  her  reason  battled 
with  her  heart.  There  she  recalled,  to  aid  her 
in  resisting  the  temptations  of  an  ardent  soul,  the 
austere  instructions  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who 
had  written  to  her  :  “  Have  a  horror  of  sin.  Vice  is 
full  of  evils  and  afflictions,  even  in  this  world. 
There  is  no  joy,  no  repose,  no  true  delight,  but  in 


THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY 


247 


serving  God.”  It  was  there  that  she  beheld  death 
coming,  and  welcomed  its  approach  with  a  noble  and 
religious  courage.  Poor  Princess  !  Even  in  presence 
of  her  dead  body  disputes  over  etiquette  went  on. 
“Four  bishops  sitting  in  rochet  and  camail  at  the 
right  side  of  the  bed  relieved  each  other  like  the 
ladies,  when  notified  by  the  agents  of  the  clergy. 
They  claimed  chairs  with  backs,  kneeling  cushions, 
and  a  holy  water  sprinkler.  The  first  two  were 
refused  them  ;  they  had  nothing  but  folding  stools, 
and  no  cushions.  They  made  such  an  outcry  that 
they  got  the  sprinkler.” 

Strictly  speaking,  history  is  nothing  but  a  long 
funeral  sermon.  The  more  closely  it  is  studied,  the 
more  it  is  seen  to  be  full  of  tears.  The  view  of  a 
palace  is  as  fruitful  in  lessons  as  that  of  a  cemetery, 
and  the  chateau  of  Versailles,  when  one  is  surrounded 
there  by  the  illustrious  shades  that  have  occupied  it, 
suddenly  assumes  the  aspect  of  an  immense  cata¬ 
falque.  The  gildings  are  veiled  with  crape.  One 
fancies  that  the  fountains  are  weeping,  and  the  sun 
of  the  great  King  is  hidden  behind  a  heavy  cloud. 
Death  is  in  every  chamber,  it  stands  at  every  door  to 
make  its  dismal  voice  listened  to,  and  to  repeat  the 
great  saying:  Vanity,  all  is  vanity. 


CONCLUSION 


THE  TOMBS 


T  is  the  most  melancholy  of  all  spectacles  to  re- 


-L.  behold,  in  the  trappings  of  sadness  and  death, 
the  places  which  were  once  the  theatre  of  splendors 
or  of  fêtes.  While  listening  to  the  prayers  of  the 
dying  succeed  the  flare  of  trumpets  and  joyous  orches¬ 
tral  harmonies,  one  reflects  painfully  on  the  things  of 
earth,  and  comprehends  the  inanity  of  glory,  riches, 
and  pleasure.  The  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV.  had  to 
endure  this  impression  when  “■  this  monarch  of  happi¬ 
ness,  of  majesty,  of  apotheosis,”'  as  Saint-Simon  says, 
was  about  to  breathe  his  last.  The  incomparable 
Gallery  of  Mirrors  was  now  merely  the  vestibule  of 
a  death  chamber.  The  triumphant  paintings  of 
Lebrun  seemed  darkened.  The  place  of  transports 
had  changed  its  aspect;  the  modern  Olympus  was 
vanishing  before  the  great  Christian  idea,  and  this 
King,  “  the  terror  of  his  neighbors,  the  astonishment 
of  the  universe,  the  father  of  kings,  grander  than 
all  his  ancestors,  more  magnificent  than  Solomon,”  ^ 


1  Massillon,  Oraison  funèbre  de  Louis  le  Grand. 
248 


THE  TOMBS 


249 


seemed  to  be  saying  with  the  Preacher:  “I  have  sur¬ 
passed  in  glory  and  in  wisdom  all  those  who  have 
preceded  me  in  Jerusalem,  and  I  have  recognized 
that  even  in  this  there  was  nothing  but  vanity  and 
affliction  of  spirit.” 

During  the  last  illness  of  him  who  had  been  the 
Sun-King,  the  court  remained  all  day  long  in  the 
Gallery  of  Mirrors.  No  one  stopped  in  the  (Eil-de- 
Boeuf  except  the  domestic  servants  and  the  physi¬ 
cians.  As  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  in  spite  of  her 
eighty  years  and  her  infirmities,  she  nursed  the  august 
invalid  with  great  devotion,  and  often  remained  beside 
his  bed  for  fourteen  hours  together.  “  The  King 
bade  me  adieu  three  times,”  she  related  afterwards  to 
the  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr  ;  “  the  first  time,  he  said  he  had 
no  regret  but  that  of  leaving  me,  but  that  we  should 
soon  see  each  other  again  ;  I  begged  him  to  think  no 
longer  of  anything  but  God.  The  second,  he  asked 
me  to  pardon  him  for  not  having  lived  well  enough 
with  me  ;  he  added  that  he  had  not  made  me  happy, 
but  that  he  had  always  loved  and  esteemed  me 
equally.  He  was  weeping,  and  he  asked  if  any  one 
were  present.  I  told  him  no  ;  then  he  said  :  ‘  Even 
though  they  should  hear  me  crying  with  you,  no  one 
would  be  surprised.’  I  went  away  so  as  not  to  do 
him  any  harm.  The  third  time  he  said  to  me  : 
‘  What  is  going  to  become  of  you,  for  you  have  noth¬ 
ing  ?  ’  I  answered  him  :  ‘  I  am  a  nonentity  ;  do  not 
think  of  anything  but  God,’  and  I  left  him.” 

Louis  XIV.  deserved  the  name  of  Great  until  his 


250 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


latest  breath.  He  died  still  better  than  he  had  lived. 
All  that  was  elevated,  majestic,  grandiose  in  this 
chosen  soul  is  summed  up  in  the  final  moment.  His 
death  is  that  of  a  king,  a  hero,  and  a  saint.  Like  the 
first  Christians,  he  made  a  sort  of  public  confession  ; 
he  said,  August  26, 1715,  to  those  who  were  admitted 
to  his  presence  :  “  Gentlemen,  I  ask  your  pardon  for 
the  bad  examples  I  have  given  you.  I  have  to  thank 
you  much  for  the  way  in  which  you  have  served  me, 
and  the  attachment  and  fidelity  you  have  always 
shown  for  me.  ...  I  see  that  I  am  affected,  and 
that  I  am  affecting  you  also  ;  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
it.  Adieu,  gentlemen  ;  I  rely  upon  your  remember¬ 
ing  me  sometimes.”  He  gave  his  blessing  the  same 
day  to  the  little  Dauphin,  and  addressed  him  in  these 
beautiful  words  :  “  My  dear  child,  you  are  going  to 
be  the  greatest  king  of  the  world.  Never  forget  your 
obligations  to  God.  Do  not  imitate  me  in  wars  ;  try 
always  to  preserve  peace  with  your  neighbors,  and  to 
assist  your  people  as  much  as  you  can,  which  I  have 
had  the  misfortune  not  to  be  able  to  do  on  account 
of  the  necessities  of  the  State.  Always  follow  wise 
counsels,  and  remember  well  that  it  is  to  God  you 
owe  all  that  you  are.  I  give  you  Père  Letellier  for 
confessor;  follow  his  advice,  and  always  rememher 
the  obligations  which  you  owe  to  Madame  de  Ven- 
tadour.”  ^ 

1  M.  Le  Eoi,  in  his  work  entitled  Curiosités  historiques,  has  proved 
that  these  were  the  exact  terms  employed  by  Louis  XIV.  in  his 
address  to  Louis  XV. 


THE  TOMBS 


251 


During  the  night  of  August  27-28,  the  dying 
man  was  seen  joining  his  hands  at  every  moment; 
he  said  his  customary  prayers,  and  at  the  Confiteor  he 
smote  his  breast.  In  the  morning  of  the  28th  he 
saw  in  the  mirror  on  his  chimney  piece  two  domes¬ 
tics  who  were  shedding  tears.  “  Why  are  you  weep¬ 
ing  ?  ”  he  said  to  them  ;  “  did  you  think  I  was  im¬ 
mortal  ?  ”  An  elixir  intended  to  restore  him  to  life 
was  handed  him.  “  To  life  or  to  death  !  ”  he  an¬ 
swered,  taking  the  glass  ;  “  all  that  pleases  God.” 
His  confessor  asked  if  he  suffered  much.  “  Eh  ! 
no,”  he  replied,  “  that  is  what  displeases  me  ;  I  would 
like  to  suffer  more  in  expiation  of  my  sins.”  In 
giving  his  orders,  August  29,  he  happened  to  speak 
of  the  Dauphin  as  the  young  king.  And  as  he 
observed  the  movement  it  caused  in  those  around 
him:  “Eh!  why?”  he  exclaimed,  “that  gives  me 
no  pain.”  This  is  what  made  Massillon  say  :  “  This 
monarch  environed  by  such  glory,  and  who  saw 
around  him  so  many  objects  capable  of  arousing  his 
desires  or  his  tenderness,  cast  not  even  one  regretful 
glance  on  life.  How  grand  is  man  when  he  is  so 
through  faith  !  .  .  .  Vanity  has  never  had  more  than 
the  mask  of  grandeur;  it  is  grace  which  is  the  reality.” 

During  the  daytime  of  August  29,  the  dying  man 
lost  consciousness,  and  it  was  thought  he”  had  but  a 
few  more  hours  to  live.  “  You  are  no  longer  neces¬ 
sary  to  him,”  said  his  confessor  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  ;  “you  can  go  away.”  Marshal  de  Villeroy 
exhorted  her  not  to  remain  any  longer,  and  to  go  to 


252 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


Saiiit-Cyr,  where  she  could  rest  after  so  much  emo- 
tiou.  He  posted  the  King’s  guards  along  the  road 
and  lent  her  his  carriage.  “  Some  popular  commo¬ 
tion  may  he  feared,”  said  he,  “and  possibly  the  road 
may  not  he  safe.”  Madame  de  Maintenon,  enfeebled, 
disturbed  by  age  and  sorrow,  made  the  mistake  of 
listening  to  such  pusillanimous  counsels.  Posterity 
will  always  reproach  her  with  a  weakness  unworthy 
of  this  woman  of  intelligence  and  feeling.  There 
are  positions  which  oblige.  Madame  de  Maintenon 
ought  to  have  closed  the  eyes  of  the  great  King, 
and  prayed  beside  his  corpse.  The  courtiers,  who 
prescribed  the  resolutions  of  egoism  and  fear,  are 
chiefly  to  be  blamed.  Ah  !  how  they  are  abandoned, 
“  the  gods  of  flesh  and  blood,  the  gods  of  clay  and 
dust,”  when  they  are  going  down  to  the  grave.  A 
few  domestics  alone  lament  them.  The  crowd  is 
indifferent,  or  it  rejoices.  The  courtiers  turn  toward 
the  rising  sun.  Alas  !  what  a  contrast  between  the 
throne  and  the  coffin  !  The  death  of  a  man  is 
always  a  subject  for  philosophic  reflections.  What 
is  it  then,  when  he  who  dies  has  called  himself 
Louis  XIV. 

August  30,  the  dying  man  returned  to  conscious¬ 
ness  and  asked  for  Madame  de  Maintenon.  She  was 
sent  for  to  Saint-Cyr.  She  came  back.  The  King 
recognized  her,  said  a  few  more  words,  and  then 
drowsed.  In  the  evening  she  descended  the  marble 
staircase  which  she  was  never  to  ascend  again,  and 
went  to  Saint-Cyr  to  shut  herself  up  forever. 


TUE  TOMBS 


253 


On  Saturday,  August  31,  towards  eleven  o’clock 
in  the  evening,  the  prayers  for  the  dying  were  said 
for  Louis  XIV.  He  recited  them  himself  in  a 
louder  voice  than  any  of  the  spectators  ;  and  seemed 
still  more  majestic  on  his  deathbed  than  on  his 
throne.  When  the  prayers  were  ended  he  recog¬ 
nized  Cardinal  de  Rohan  and  said  to  him  :  “  These 
are  the  last  graces  of  the  Church.”  Several  times 
he  repeated:  ‘•‘■Nunc  et  in  liora  mortis.  Now  and  at 
the  hour  of  our  death.”  Then  he  said  :  “  O  God, 
come  unto  mine  aid  ;  O  Lord,  make  haste  to  help  me.” 
These  were  his  last  words.  The  agony  was  begin¬ 
ning.  It  lasted  all  night,  and  on  Sunday,  Septem¬ 
ber  1,  1715,  at  a  quarter  past  eight  in  the  morning, 
Louis  XIV.,  aged  seventy-seven  years  lacking  three 
days,  during  sixty-two  of  which  he  had  been  king, 
yielded  his  great  soul  to  God. 

One  does  not  terminate  the  study  of  a  memorable 
epoch  without  a  sentiment  of  regret.  After  having 
lived  for  some  time  by  the  life  of  a  celebrated  per¬ 
sonage,  one  suffers  from  his  death,  and  is  affected  at 
his  tomb.  When  reading  Saint-Simon,  does  not  one 
seem  present  at  the  death  agony  of  Louis  XIV.,  and 
feel  the  tears  welling  into  his  eyes  as  if  he  were 
mingling  with  the  loyal  servitors  who  are  weeping 
for  the  best  of  masters  and  the  greatest  of  kings  ? 

As  soon  as  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  Louis  XIV. 
reached  Saint-Cyr,  Mademoiselle  d’ Aumale  entered 
Madame  de  Maintenon’s  chamber.  “  Madame,”  said 


254 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


she,  “the  AA^iole  house  is  at  prayer,  in  the  choir.” 
Madame  de  Maintenon  understood,  she  raised  her 
hands  to  heaven,  weeping,  and  then  repaired  to  the 
church,  where  she  was  present  at  the  office  for  the 
dead.  Then  she  dismissed  her  servants,  and  got  rid 
of  her  carriage,  “unable,”  as  she  said,  “to  reconcile 
herself  to  feeding  horses  while  so  many  young  girls 
were  in  need.”  She  lived  in  her  modest  apartment  in 
profound  peace.  She  submitted  to  the  regulations 
of  the  house  as  far  as  her  age  permitted,  and  never 
went  out  except  to  go  to  the  village  to  visit  the 
sick  and  the  poor.  When  Peter  the  Great  went  to 
Saint-Cyr,  June  10,  1717,  the  illustrious  octogenarian 
was  suffering.  The  Czar  sat  down  beside  the  bed  of 
this  woman  whose  name  he  had  heard  so  often.  He 
asked  her,  through  an  interpreter,  if  she  were  ill. 
She  answered  Yes.  He  wanted  to  know  what  her 
malady  was.  “  A  great  old  age,”  she  replied. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  died  at  Saint-Cyr,  August 
15,  1719.  For  two  days  she  remained  exposed  on 
her  bed  “  with  an  air  so  sweet  and  so  devout,  that 
one  would  have  said  she  was  praying  to  God.”  ^  She 
was  buried  in  the  choir  of  the  church.  A  modest 
slab  of  marble  indicates  the  spot  where  her  body 
reposes.  It  was  there  the  novices  went  to  weep 
and  pray  before  dedicating  themselves  forever  to 
the  Lord. 

Now  that  we  have  quitted  Versailles,  let  us  go 


1  Mémoires  des  dames  de  Saint-  Cyr, 


THE  TOMBS 


255 


down  into  the  crypts  where  lie  these  beautiful  hero¬ 
ines,  these  famous  women  whose  gracious  figures  we 
have  endeavored  to  evoke.  Mademoiselle  de  La 
Vallière  rests  at  Paris  in  the  Carmelite  church  of 
the  rue  Saint-Jacques  ;  Queen  Marie  Thérèse,  the 
two  Duchesses  of  Orleans,  the  Bavarian  dauphiness, 
and  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  at  Saint-Denis.  There 
they  sleep  their  slumber,  in  those  gloomy  abodes 
where,  as  Bossuet  says,  the  ranks  are  so  crowded,  so 
prompt  is  death  to  fill  the  places.  There  one  should 
go  to  meditate,  there  to  draw  the  conclusions  from 
histories  which  have  their  lessons,  there  to  listen 
to  the  great  Christian  maxim  :  Memento  homo  quia 
pulvis  es,  et  in  pulverim  reverteris. 

Bossuet  says  in  speaking  of  the  Pharaohs,  that  they 
did  not  even  possess  their  sepulchres.  Such  was  also 
the  destiny  of  Louis  XIV.  This  potentate  who  had 
given  laws  to  Europe,  did  not  even  possess  his  tomb. 
The  profaners  of  graves  descended  into  the  subterra¬ 
nean  abode  of  “  annihilated  princes,”  and  in  spite  of 
their  rear-guard  of  eight  centuries  of  kings,  as  Cha¬ 
teaubriand  says,  the  great  shade  of  Louis  XIV.  could 
not  defend  the  majesty  of  sepulchres  which  all  the 
world  had  deemed  inviolable. 

During  the  session  of  July  21,  1794,  Barrère  read 
to  the  Convention,  in  the  name  of  the  Committee  of 
Public  Safety,  a  long  report  in  which  he  demanded, 
that  in  order  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  August 
Tenth,  the  mausoleums  of  Saint-Denis  should  be 
destroyed.  “  Under  the  monarchy,”  said  he,  “  even 


256 


THE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


tombs  had  learned  to  flatter  kings  ;  royal  pomp  and 
pride  could  not  be  lessened  on  this  theatre  of  death, 
and  the  sceptre  bearers  who  have  caused  so  many 
Avoes  to  France  and  to  humanity  seem  still,  even 
in  the  grave,  to  pride  themselves  on  a  vanished 
grandeur.  The  powerful  hand  of  the  Republic 
should  pitilessly  efface  these  mausoleums  which 
recall  the  frightful  memory  of  kings.”  The  Con¬ 
vention  carried  by  acclamation  a  decree  conformable 
to  this  report.  Considering  that  “  the  country  was 
in  danger  and  lacked  cannons  wherewith  to  defend 
itself,”  it  decided  that  “the  tombs  of  the  former 
kings  should  be  destroyed  on  the  ensuing  10th  ol 
August.”  It  appointed  commissioners  empowered  to 
go  to  Saint-Denis  for  the  purpose  of  proceeding  “  to 
the  exhuming  of  the  former  kings  and  queens, 
princes  and  princesses,”  and  decreed  the  breaking  of 
the  coffins  in  order  to  melt  the  lead,  and  send  it  to 
the  national  foundries. 

This  odious  decree  was  strictly  executed.^  Kings, 
queens,  princes,  and  princesses  were  torn  from  their 
sepulchres.  The  lead  was  carried,  as  fast  as  it  was 
found,  to  a  cemetery  in  which  a  foundry  had  been 
established,  and  the  corpses  were  cast  into  the  com¬ 
mon  grave.  The  vandalism  of  the  revolutionists  and 
the  atheists  took  delight  in  this  spectacle.  Assuredly, 
as  Chateaubriand  writes,  “  God,  in  the  effusion  of 


1  See  the  interesting  work  of  M.  George  d’Heylli,  Les  Tombes 
royales  de  Saint-Denis. 


THE  TOMBS 


257 


His  wrath,  had  sworn  by  Himself  to  punish  France. 
Seek  not  on  earth  the  causes  of  such  events;  they 
are  higher  than  that.” 

A  few  weeks  later  came  the  turn  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon’s  dead  body.  In  January,  1794,  while 
the  church  of  Saint-Cyr  was  being  transformed  into 
hospital  wards,  the  workmen  perceived  a  slab  of 
black  marble  amidst  the  débris  of  the  devastated 
choir.  It  was  the  tomb  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
They  broke  it,  opened  the  vault,  and  taking  out  the 
body,  dragged  it  into  the  court  with  dreadful  yells 
and  threw  it,  stripped  and  mutilated,  into  a  hole  in 
the  cemetery.  On  that  day  the  unrecognized  spouse 
of  Louis  XIV.  was  treated  like  a  queen! 

Thus  then,  these  illustrious  heroines  of  Versailles, 
the  good  Marie  Thérèse,  the  clever  Maintenon,  the 
melancholy  Bavarian  dauphiness,  the  haughty  Prin¬ 
cess  Palatine,  the  alluring  Duchess  of  Burgundy, 
were  dispossessed  of  their  tombs.  Listening  to  the 
tale  of  such  iconoclastic  and  sacrilegious  rage,  the 
heart  contracts  and  feels  the  anguish  of  an  inexpres¬ 
sible  sadness.  A  sentiment  of  holy  wrath  against 
such  odious  profanations  and  savage  furies  blends 
with  profound  reflections  on  the  nothingness  of 
human  things.  More  eloquent,  more  terrible  than 
any  funeral  sermon,  history  assumes  a  sepulchral 
tone  and  speaks  more  forcibly  than  the  preachers  of 
the  great  century.  The  shades  of  these  once  flat¬ 
tered  women  come  before  us  one  after  another,  and 
as  they  pass  each  seems  to  say  like  Fénelon  in  his 


258 


TEE  WOMEN  OF  VERSAILLES 


book  of  prayers  :  “  What  does  not  one  do  to  find  a 
false  happiness  ?  What  rebuffs,  what  thwartings 
does  not  one  endure  for  a  phantom  of  worldly  glory  ? 
What  pains  for  wretched  pleasures  of  which  nothing 
is  left  but  remorse  ?  ”  From  the  depths  of  the  dust 
of  graves  profound,  the  dazzled  eye  suddenly  per¬ 
ceives  arising  a  pure,  an  incorruptible  radiance  which 
places  in  their  true  light  all  things  here  below,  and 
one  recalls  the  saying  of  Massillon  before  the  coffin 
of  Louis  XIV.  :  “  God  alone  is  great,  my  brethren.” 


INDEX 


Apartment  days,  at  Versailles,  139- 
141. 

Arnauld,  his  words  concerning  wed¬ 
ding  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  124. 

Athalie,  Racine’s,  performance  of, 
153. 

Augustine,  Saint.  See  Saint  Augus¬ 
tine. 

Barrère,  255. 

Bassompierre,  words  of,  concerning 
Chateau  of  Versailles,  29,  30. 

Bavarian  Dauphiness,  the,  dates  of 
her  birth  and  marriage,  41,  104; 
her  sad  life,  104,  116;  her  death, 
104;  her  life  at  Munich,  105; 
meets  Bossuet,  105  ;  accompanies 
Bossuet  to  Versailles,  106;  birth 
of  her  son,  107,  108  ;  occupies  the 
Queen’s  room.  111;  her  sadness, 
112, 113,  115  ;  deserted  by  all,  113  ; 
painting  of  by  Delutel,  114;  her 
words  to  the  Princess  Palatine, 
115;  foresaw  her  end,  115;  her 
burial  place,  255  ;  her  tomb  dese¬ 
crated,  257. 

Berry,  Duchess  of,  the  symbol  of 
her  age,  26. 

Blois,  Mademoiselle  de,  41.  See 
Conti,  Princess  de. 

Blois,  Mademoiselle,  Duchess  de 
Chartres  also  called,  224. 

Bossuet,  denies  absolution  to  Mad¬ 
ame  de  Moiitespan,  74  ;  his  e.x- 
hortations  to  Louis  XIV.,  76,  78, 

79  ;  visits  Madame  de  Montespan 

269 


for  religious  counsel,  77  ;  criti¬ 
cised  for  his  conduct,  77,  78; 
unable  to  prevent  meeting  of 
Louis  XIV.  and  Madame  de 
Montespan,  81  ;  meets  and  con¬ 
ducts  the  Bavarian  Dauphiness 
to  Versailles,  105,  106;  received 
cordially  by  Louis  XIV.,  106;  his 
words  on  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  192,  193,  210. 

Bourbon,  Duchess  of,  her  birth  and 
marriage,  215,  221;  her  beauty, 
222;  her  amour  with  the  second 
Prince  de  Conti,  222,  223;  loses 
her  husband,  223. 

Bourbon,  Duke  de,  215,  221,  223. 

Bourdaloue,  active  in  the  conver¬ 
sion  of  Louis  XIV.,  75;  his  ex¬ 
hortations,  75,  76. 

Burgundy,  Duchess  of,  10,  13,  18; 
the  symbol  of  her  age,  26;  her 
arrival  in  France,  229;  charms 
Louis  XIV.,  229,  230;  attentions 
of  Louis  XIV.  to,  231  j  lier  educa¬ 
tion  finished  by  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  231,  232;  ceremonies  at 
her  marriage,  232-234;  her  at¬ 
tractiveness,  234,  235  ;  her  affec¬ 
tion  and  admiration  for  Louis 
XIV.,  2.35  ;  her  pleasures,  235  ;  her 
portrait,  236;  Saint-Simon’s  ad¬ 
miration  for,  23(i;  her  numerous 
charms,  236,  237  ;  the  victim  of 
calumny,  237  ;  her  anxiety  on 
behalf  of  her  family,  238;  her 
sorrows,  238,  239;  becomes  the 
Dauphiness,  240  ;  convinced  that 


1 


260 


INDEX 


hcr  end  was  near,  240,  241  ;  her 
death,  242;  her  burial,  243;  re¬ 
ported  to  have  betrayed  state 
secrets,  245  ;  a  review  of  the  ca¬ 
reer  of,  24Ü,  247  ;  her  burial  place, 
255;  her  tomb  desecrated,  257. 

Burgundy,  Duke  of,  232-234,  240, 
242. 

Caylus,  Marquise  de,  her  words  con¬ 
cerning  Marie  Thérèse’s  timidity, 
60;  concerning  the  King’s  bas¬ 
tards,  63;  concerning  Madame 
de  Montespan,  69,  72,  73  ;  con¬ 
cerning  Louis  XIV.,  72;  her  de¬ 
scription  of  the  interview  between 
Louis  XIV.  and  Madame  de 
Montespan,  81,  82;  concerning 
grief  of  Madame  de  Maintenon 
and  Madame  de  Montespan  at 
death  of  Marie  Thérèse,  111  ;  con¬ 
cerning  the  Bavarian  Dauphin- 
ess,  113;  educated  by  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  143,  145  ;  her 
cleverness,  144  ;  her  birth  and 
parentage  144  ;  conveyed  to  Saint- 
Germain,  144  ;  becomes  a  Catholic, 
144  ;  her  hand  sought  in  mar¬ 
riage,  145, 146  ;  her  marriage,  146  ; 
her  grace  and  wit,  146  ;  takes  part 
in  presentation  of  Esther,  147- 
149,  151;  her  love  of  pleasure, 
153;  contracts  a  liaison  with  the 
Duke  de  Villeroy,  154;  finds  the 
court  dull,  154;  sent  away  from 
the  court,  154, 155  ;  pardoned  and 
returns,  155  ;  her  Souvenirs,  155, 
156. 

Chambre  des  Bassans,  136,  137. 

Chartres,  Duchess  de,  her  birth  and 
marriage,  215,  224,  225;  her 
timidity  before  Louis  XIV.,  226; 
her  intelligence,  226;  ill-treated 
by  SainLSimon,  226,  227. 

Chartres,  Duke  de,  178,  179,  215, 
224,  225. 

Chasles,  Émile,  his  words  con¬ 
cerning  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
188. 


Château  of  Versailles,  the.  See 
Versailles. 

Châteauroirs,  Duchess  de,  her  brief 
life,  24. 

Choin,  Mademoiselle,  218,  219. 

Choisy,  Abbé  de,  his  words  con¬ 
cerning  Louis  XIV.  and  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  120;  his  words 
concerning  Marquise  de  Caylus, 
146. 

Clagny,  Château  of,  80,  210. 

Clermont,  M.,  219. 

Colbert,  71. 

Condé,  Prince  of,  urges  Louis  XIV. 
to  legitimate  his  bastard  chil¬ 
dren,  63,  227. 

Conti,  Prince  de,  215,  216,  218. 

Conti,  the  second  Prince  de,  222, 
223. 

Conti,  Princess  de,  her  birth  and 
marriage,  41,  215;  her  legitima¬ 
tion,  216;  the  words  of  Louis 
XIV.  concerning,  216  ;  her  grace 
and  attractiveness,  216,  218  ;  her 
marriage,  216;  loses  her  hus¬ 
band,  218;  her  intrigue  with  M. 
Clermont,  219;  her  pleasures, 
218,  220. 

Dauphin,  the,  113,  114,  218,  219, 
240. 

Dangeau,  210,  229,  230. 

Deshoulières,  Madame,  lines  of, 
193. 

Diana  of  Poitiers,  121. 

Dubarry,  Madame,  18. 

Duclos,  his  statement  that  the 
Duchess  of  Burgundy  betrayed 
state  secrets,  245. 

Elisabeth,  Madame,  18. 

Esther,  Racine’s,  performance  of, 
at  Saint-Cyr,  148-153. 

Fâcheux,  Le,  performance  of,  at 
Versailles,  31. 

Femmes  Savantes,  Les,  performed 
at  Versailles,  33. 


INDEX 


261 


Fénelon,  his  words  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  188;  approves  prin¬ 
ciple  of  revocation  of  Edict  of 
Nantes,  194. 

Fêtes  de  l’Amour  et  de  Bacchus, 
performed  at  Vensailles,  82. 

Fontanges,  Mademoiselle  de, 
Louis  XlV.’s-passion  for,  48,  04, 
83,  84. 

Georges  Dandin,  performed  at 
Versailles,  32. 

Girardin,  Saint  Marc,  his  words 
concerning  Madame  de  Mainte¬ 
non,  86. 

Grand-Couvert,  the  hall  of  the,  8. 

Gratry,  Père,  quoted,  13. 

Hausset,  Madame  du,  her  words  of 
sympathy  for  Madame  de  Pom¬ 
padour,  24. 

Henrietta  of  England,  230. 

History,  nothing  but  a  long  fu¬ 
neral  sermon,  247, 

La  Bessola,  113. 

La  Bruyère,  quoted,  100. 

La  Fayette,  Madame  de,  her  words 
concerning  Louis  XIV.,  46  ;  her 
words  concerning  the  Bavarian 
Dauphiness,  114,  115. 

La  Fontaine,  his  dedication  to 
Madame  de  Montespan  of  his 
seventh  hook  of  fables,  70. 

Lamartine,  verses  of,  quoted,  12; 
defines  the  sentiment  of  Louis 
XIV.  for  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
122. 

Lamballe,  Princess  de,  19. 

Lavallée,  his  work  on  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  87, 88,  199;  his  words 
concerning  alterations  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  132;  concerning  apart¬ 
ment  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
134,  135;  concerning  Madame  de 
Maintenon’s  instructions  to  the 
ladies  of  Saint-Cyr,  165  ;  his 
change  of  opinion  concerning 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  198,  199. 


Lécuyer,  Abbé,  refuses  absolution 
to  Madame  de  Montespan,  74. 

Leczinska,  Marie.  See  Marie  Lec- 
zinska. 

Lenclos,  Ninon  de,  92,  122. 

Letters  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
199  et  seq.  ;  of  Madame  de  Sé- 
vigné,  201  et  seq. 

Louis  XIV.,  his  apartments  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  2  ;  his  words  to  the  aged 
Condé  on  the  staircase  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  5  ;  his  statue,  6,  7  ;  his 
first  visit  to  Versailles,  30;  his 
festivities  at  Versailles,  30  et 
seq.  ;  his  attachment  to  Ver¬ 
sailles,  30,  .34;  his  apartments 
at  Versailles,  36,  37  ;  intimate 
relation  between  Louis  XIV.  and 
Versailles,  39,  40;  his  strong 
personality,  42;  estimate  of  his 
character,  43  et  seq.  ;  his  polite 
and  amiable  disposition,  43  ;  his 
incessant  work,  44;  his  worship 
of  glory  and  the  ideal,  45;  his 
feeling  towards  women,  45,  46  ; 
poetic  quality  of  his  amours,  46; 
his  words  concerning  Madame 
de  Maiutenou’s  sensibility,  46  ; 
his  personal  attractions,  47  ;  his 
tenderness,  46, 47  ;  the  beginning 
of  his  repentance,  48;  his  pas¬ 
sion  for  Mademoiselle  de  Fon- 
tauges,  48,  64;  his  feeling  for 
the  Duchess  de  la  Vallière,  47- 
50;  his  conversion  and  refor¬ 
mation,  50,  51  ;  his  gravity  as  a 
sovereign,  51,  52;  his  principle 
of  authority,  52,  53,  184  ;  Napo¬ 
leon’s  words  of  admiration  for, 
63;  his  sense  of  guilt  towards 
Marie  Thérèse,  60;  legitimating 
his  adulterous  children,  61-63, 
95  ;  his  repentance,  63,  64,  67,  83  ; 
makes  changes  in  the  Queen’s 
household,  64;  his  return  of 
affection  for  the  Queen,  65,  66; 
his  words  concerning  Montespan, 
71;  his  religious  disposition,  72; 
resolves  to  break  with  Madame 


262 


INDEX 


de  Moutespan,  74;  separates 
from  Madame  de  Montespan, 
7(),  77  ;  bis  secret  correspondence 
witli  Madame  de  Montespan,  80; 
meets  Madame  de  Montespan  on 
his  return  from  his  army,  81,  82  ; 
final  conversion,  84,  85  ;  recog¬ 
nizes  good  qualities  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  95,  9G;  receives 
Bavarian  Dauphiness  cordially, 
100  ;  his  attention  to  the  Bava¬ 
rian  Daupliiness  at  birth  of  her 
child,  107, 108  ;  his  heart  inclined 
more  toward  religion,  108  ;  his 
grief  at  death  of  his  wife,  109- 
111;  his  kindness,  110;  enter¬ 
tains  the  Bavarian  Dauphiness, 
112;  his  love  for  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  118;  his  complex 
sentiment  lor  Madame  de  Main¬ 
tenon,  119,  120;  the  zenith  of  his 
power,  118  ;  lofty  nature  of  his 
attachment  to  Madame  de  Main¬ 
tenon,  122,  123;  his  marriage  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  123;  his 
daily  life  at  Versailles,  137-142; 
witnesses  performance  of  Esther 
at  Saint-Cyr,  149  et  seq.  ;  his 
praise  of  the  performance,  152  ; 
he  dismisses  Marquise  de  Caylus 
from  the  court,  154  ;  pardons  her, 
155  ;  visits  Saint-Cyr,  161  ;  finds 
Saint-Cyr  a  consolation,  102;  his 
detractors  among  historians,  184 
et  seq.  ;  sole  master  of  his  king¬ 
dom,  188,  189;  true  relation  be¬ 
tween  him  and  Madame  de 
Maintenon  on  state  affairs,  188 
et  seq.  ;  his  wars  and  love  of 
luxury,  189-191  ;  forced  to  revoke 
the  Edict  of  Nantes,  191-193; 
his  first  dislike  for  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  95,  198  ;  his  indiffer¬ 
ence  to  Madame  de  Montespan, 
208,  214  ;  the  daughters  of,  215 
et  seq.  ;  his  words  concerning  the 
Princess  de  Conti,  216;  threatens 
to  confine  his  three  daughters 
in  their  country  houses,  227  ;  his 


tenderness  for  his  children,  227; 
visits  Duchess  of  Bourbon  dur¬ 
ing  her  attack  of  small-pox,  227, 
228  ;  receives  Marie-Ade'laïde, 
229;  his  praise  of  Marie-Ade'- 
la'ide,  230  ;  his  attentions  to 
Marie-Adélaïde,  231  ;  his  interest 
in  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  235, 
240  ;  his  grief  at  the  death  of  his 
son,  243;  his  firmness  under 
trials,  244;  his  last  hours,  248- 
253;  his  farewell  words  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  249;  his 
public  confession,  250;  his  last 
words  to  the  Dauphin,  250;  his 
calmness,  251;  his  death,  253; 
his  tomb  destroyed,  256,  256. 

Louis  XV.,  9;  his  words  at  funeral 
of  Madame  de  Pompadour,  24; 
the  favorites  of,  26  ;  his  birth,  242. 

Louis  XVI.,  11,  12. 

Maine,  Duke  du,  210,  225. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  her  char¬ 
acter,  17,  86,  et  seq.,  96-98;  her 
ennui,  22  ;  the  symbol  of  her  age, 
26;  her  position  at  Versailles  in 
1682,  42  ;  her  sensibility,  46  ;  her 
influence  for  good,  65,  85,  96-98  ; 
diverse  opinions  concerning  her 
character,  87,  88,  96-98;  her  birth, 
89;  her  childhood,  89,  90;  her 
marriage  to  Scarron,  91  ;  her 
salon,  92;  loses  her  husband,  92; 
admired  and  respected,  92,  93; 
her  simple,  charming  manners, 
93;  obtains  renewal  of  her  pen¬ 
sion  through  Madame  de  Montes¬ 
pan,  94  ;  her  charity,  94  ;  becomes 
governess  at  court,  94;  takes 
charge  of  the  illegitimate  chil¬ 
dren  of  Louis  XIV.,  95;  her 
pension  increased,  95;  her  disa¬ 
greements  with  Madame  de  Mon¬ 
tespan,  96,  99;  purchases  the 
estate  of  Maintenon,  96;  accused 
of  hypocrisy,  96,  97  ;  her  opposi¬ 
tion  to  the  amours  of  Louis  XIV. 
and  Madame  de  Montespan,  99; 


INDEX 


263 


her  position  at  court  assured  be¬ 
yond  attack,  101,  102;  her  words 
at  the  birth  of  son  of  Bavarian 
Dauphiness,  108;  her  quarrels 
with  Madame  de  Moutespau  ap¬ 
peased,  108,  109;  her  conduct  at 
death  of  Marie  The'rese,  111  ;  her 
words  concerning  her  good  for¬ 
tune,  1 17  ;  her  words  at  marriage 
of  Louis  XIV.  and  Marie  The'rese, 

117  ;  the  love  of  Louis  XIV.  for, 

118  et  seq.;  did  not  love  the  King, 
118;  espoused  by  Louis  XIV., 
118;  her  beauty  well  preserved, 
122  ;  her  marriage  to  Louis  XIV., 
123;  her  sadness,  124,  127;  re¬ 
tains  her  influence  over  Louis 
XIV.,  126;  she  regrets  Searrou’s 
house,  127  ;  her  apartment  neg¬ 
lected  by  posterity,  128, 129  ;  her 
apartment  almost  unrecogniza¬ 
ble,  132, 133;  as  it  originally  was, 
133-135;  her  daily  life,  135;  her 
retinue,  1.35  ;  educates  Mademoi¬ 
selle  de  Murçay-Villette,  Mar¬ 
quise  de  Caylus,  143,145;  forbids 
tragedy  at  Saint-Cyr.  147  ;  urges 
Racine  to  write  moral  poem  for 
Saint-Cyr,  147;  her  life  at  Saint- 
Cyr,  157  et  seq.  ;  her  devotion  to 
Saint-Cyr,  162,  163  ;  her  words  of 
counsel  to  the  ladies  of  Saint-Cyr, 
162-166  ;  her  distrust  of  the  court 
of  Versailles,  167  ;  attacked  by 
the  Princess  Palatine,  167,  168; 
reproves  the  Princess  Palatine 
for  her  insults,  180,  181  ;  her  de¬ 
tractors  among  historians,  184 
et  seq.  ;  her  true  attitude  towards 
the  King  in  state  affairs,  188, 
189;  her  desire  for  peace,  189, 
190;  her  distaste  of  luxury,  190, 
191  ;  her  attitude  towards  the 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes, 
190,  191,  194-196;  moderate  in 
religion  and  politics,  195,  196; 
a  pious,  sincere  woman,  196,  l‘.t7  ; 
her  daily  prayer,  196,  197  ;  her 
noble  devotion  to  the  King,  197  ; 


I  disliked  at  first  by  Louis  XIV., 
95,  198;  a  character  not  easily  un¬ 
derstood,  198;  Lavalle'e’s  change 
of  opinion  concerning,  198,  199; 
her  letters,  199-206;  compared 
with  Madame  de  Se'vigné,  201- 
206;  finishes  the  education  of 
Marie  Ade'laide,  231,  232;  at  the 
death-bed  of  Louis  XIV.,  249; 
retires  to  Saint-Cyr,  252;  her 
last  days,  254;  her  death,  254; 
her  burial  place,  254;  her  tomb, 
destroyed,  257. 

Malade  imaginaire,  Le,  performed 
at  Versailles,  33. 

Mariage  forcé.  Le,  performed  at 
Versailles,  31. 

Marie  Adélaïde,  afterwards  Dueh- 
ess  of  Burgundy.  See  Burgundy, 
Duchess  of. 

Marie  Anne  Victoire,  Infanta  of 
Spain,  10. 

Marie  Antoinette,  defended  by  her 
body-guard,  8;  her  manner  in 
receiving,  9;  main  events  of  her 
life  at  Versailles,  10-13;  a  sym¬ 
bol  of  her  age,  27. 

Marie  Leczinska,  the  amiable  and 
good,  9,  18;  her  death,  9,  10;  her 
virtue,  27. 

Marie  Thérèse,  her  apartments  at 
Versailles,  7  et  seq.,  .37 ;  her  salon, 
8;  her  bedchamber,  9;  her  death, 
9  ;  her  character,  17,  54, 55  ;  dates 
of  her  birth  and  marriage,  41; 
her  parentage,  55  ;  her  personal 
appearance,  56;  her  timid,  retir¬ 
ing  disposition,  56,  57  ;  her  good 
sense,  57  ;  her  devotion  to  Louis 
XIV.,  57,  60;  her  children,  58; 
distressed  by  her  husband’s  infi¬ 
delities,  58;  her  relations  with 
Duehess  de  la  Valliere,  58,  59; 
not  deceived  by  Madame  de  Mon- 
tespan,  60  ;  her  fear  of  Louis 
XIV.,  60,  61;  Louis  XIV.’s  return 
of  alfection  for,  65,  66  ;  her 
charity,  65,  66  ;  her  words  of 
gratitude  for  Madame  de  Main- 


264 


INDEX 


tenon,  109;  her  death,  109,  111; 
her  burial  place,  255;  her  tomb 
desecrated,  257. 

Massillon,  quoted,  5,  19,  23,  73,115, 
20S,  209,  251. 

Slichelet,  quoted,  190,  192,  245. 

Mirrors,  Gallery  of,  3. 

Molière,  performs  at  Versailles,  30- 
32;  quoted,  70. 

Monseigneur,  The  Dauphin  known 
as.  See  Dauphin,  the. 

Montespan,  Marquis  de,  68,  71,  212. 

Montespau,  Marquise  de,  her  char¬ 
acter,  17,  25  ;  supplanted  by  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Maintenon,  21  ;  the  sym¬ 
bol  of  her  age,  25;  her  position 
at  Versailles  in  1682,  42;  her 
sense  of  shame  before  the  Queen, 
59,  60;  loses  her  influence  at 
court,  67  ;  her  personal  charms, 
68;  her  birth  and  marriage,  68; 
disinclined  at  first  to  gallantry, 
69;  the  period  of  her  favor,  69; 
La  Fontaine’s  flattery  of,  70;  the 
children  of,  71,  94,  95;  her  lustre, 
72  ;  her  uneasiness  of  conscience, 
72;  her  religious  disposition,  72, 
73;  refused  absolution  by  the 
Abbé  Lecuyer,  74;  retires  from 
the  court,  77  ;  returns  to  her  cha¬ 
teau  of  Clagny,  80;  meets  Louis 
XIV.  on  his  return  from  the 
army,  81,  82;  her  influence  wan¬ 
ing,  82-84;  appointed  snperin- 
tendent  of  the  household  of  the 
Queen,  84  ;  suspected  of  poisoning 
the  Duchess  of  Fontanges,  84; 
obtains  renewal  of  pension  for 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  94  ;  her 
bad  feeling  for  Madame  de  Main¬ 
tenon,  96,  99,  100;  believes  Ma¬ 
dame  de  Maintenon  is  trying  to 
become  the  King’s  mistress,  99, 
100;  her  downfall  deserved,  100, 
101  ;  her  quarrels  with  Madame 
de  Maintenon  appeased,  108, 109; 
her  conduct  at  death  of  Marie 
Thérèse,  111  ;  her  unhappy  life  at 
court  after  her  downfall,  207-210  ; 


leaves  Versailles,  210,  211;  her 
life  of  repentance  and  humility, 
211,  212;  her  last  years,  212,  213; 
her  death  and  burial,  213;  for¬ 
gotten,  214;  her  children  forbid¬ 
den  to  mourn  her  death,  214,  220  ; 

Murçay-Villette,  Mademoiselle  de, 
afterwards  Marquise  de  Caylus. 
See  Caylus,  Marquise  de. 

Nantes,  Edict  of,  190,  191  et  seq. 

Nantes,  Mademoiselle  de,  41  ;  after¬ 
wards  Duchess  of  Bourbon.  See 
Bourbon,  Duchess  of. 

Napoleon,  the  first,  his  admiration 
for  Louis  XIV.,  53;  his  prefer¬ 
ence  for  the  letters  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  202. 

Nesle,  De,  the  sisters,  18. 

Nisard,  Désiré,  his  opinion  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon’s  letters, 
202. 

Noailles,  Duke  de,  his  work  on 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  87,  88. 

Noailles,  Viscountess  de,  her  words 
concerning  the  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy,  241,  242. 

Orleans,  Duchess  of.  Princess  Pala¬ 
tine,  her  character,  17,  168  et 
seq.,  182  ;  her  words  at  the  death 
of  the  Queen  of  Spain,  21;  date 
of  her  birth  and  marriage,  41  ; 
her  homage  to  Louis  XIV.,  43; 
her  hatred  of  Madame  de  Main¬ 
tenon,  167,  168,  181  ;  her  letters, 
169,  180;  compared  with  Saint- 
Simon,  169,  170;  her  birth  and 
marriage,  170  ;  sets  out  for 
France,  170;  her  ugliness,  171; 
her  dislike  for  Versailles,  171, 
172,  177,  179,  180;  her  lack  of 
affection  for  her  husband,  172; 
not  in  sympathy  with  the  Cath¬ 
olic  religion,  173;  her  protest 
against  religious  persecution, 
174  ;  not  interested  in  theological 
discussions,  174;  her  ideas  of 
various  kinds  of  piety,  175,  176  ; 


INDEX 


265 


her  unhappy  life  at  Versailles, 
17(1,  177  ;  her  poor  opinion  of  her 
husband,  178;  unhappy  in  her 
son,  178,  179;  her  hatred  of  the 
royal  bastards,  179;  slaps  her 
son’s  face  for  marrying  one  of 
the  King’s  illegitimate  children, 
179,  224,  225  ;  her  correspondence 
opened,  180,  181  ;  quiets  down 
as  a  widow,  181  ;  dies  a  good 
Christian,  181  ;  her  burial  place, 
255;  her  tomb  desecrated,  257. 

Orleans,  Duke  of,  244. 

Palatine,  Princess.  See  Orleans, 
Duchess  of. 

Philip  V.,  of  Spain,  9. 

Plaisirs  de  Vile  enchantée,  per¬ 
formance  of,  at  Versailles,  30. 

Poitiers,  Diana  of,  121. 

Pompadour,  Madame  de,  her  char¬ 
acter,  18  ;  her  melancholy,  24  ; 
neglected  and  forgotten,  24; 
Louis  XV. ’s  words  at  funeral 
of,  24. 

Princesse  d’Élide,  performed  at 
Versailles,  31. 

Racine,  quoted,  87  ;  renounces  the 
theatre,  147,  148  ;  composes 

Esther,  148. 

Rigault,  Hippolyte,  his  words  con¬ 
cerning  Mademoiselle  de  la  Val- 
lière  and  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
86. 

Saint  Augustine,  quoted,  23, 24, 209. 

Saint-Cyr,  the  pupils  of,  147-153; 
performance  of  Esther  at,  148- 
153;  Madame  de  Maintenon  at, 
157  et  seq.  ;  compared  to  Ver¬ 
sailles,  158, 159  ;  date  of  its  open¬ 
ing,  1(50  ;  Louis  XIV.  visits,  161  ; 
a  consolation  to  Louis  XIV., 
162;  Madame  de  Maiutenon’s 
devotion  to,  162,  163. 

Saint-Denis,  the  mausoleums  of, 
destroyed,  255-257. 

Saint-Germain,  château  of,  34. 


Saint-Simon,  his  words  concerning 
Louis  XIV.,  43;  concerning 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  122; 
concerning  marriage  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  Madame  de  Mainte¬ 
non,  124;  concerning  the  Mar¬ 
quise  de  Caylus,  146;  an  objec¬ 
tionable  historical  witness,  184- 
188  ;  his  words  concerning  revo¬ 
cation  of  Edict  of  Nantes,  193; 
his  ill-treatment  of  the  Duchess 
of  Chartres,  226,  227  ;  his  admi¬ 
ration  for  the  Duchess  of  Bur¬ 
gundy,  236. 

Scarron,  91,  92. 

Scude'ry,  Mademoiselle  de,  92. 

Sévigné,  Madame  de,  her  words 
concerning  life  and  death,  20; 
her  words  concerning  Madame 
de  Montespan,  21,  72,  80,  82,  83; 
concerning  Madame  de  Mainte¬ 
non,  101  ;  concerning  revocation 
of  Edict  of  Nantes,  193;  com¬ 
pared  with  Madame  de  Mainte¬ 
non,  201-206;  her  rich  natural 
endowments,  203,  204;  her  let¬ 
ters,  201-206;  her  words  con¬ 
cerning  the  Princess  de  Conti, 
216  ;  concerning  Duchess  de  la 
Vallière,  217. 

Spiuola,  107. 

Tartuffe,  performance  of,  at  Ver¬ 
sailles,  31. 

Tombs,  the  royal,  desecration  of, 
255-258.  / 

Vallière,  Duchess  de  la,  portrait 
of,  by  Mignard,  19;  her  clois¬ 
ter  life,  49,  50,  217  ;  Marie  Thé- 
rèse’s  relations  with,  58,  59  ;  he# 
death,  220;  her  burial  place, 
255. 

Versailles,  during  the  Commune, 
let  seq.;  haunted  by  memories, 
12-14  ;  women  of,  12-27  ;  the  pas.s- 
ing  away  of  the  glory  of,  20  ;  the 
château  of,  29  et  seq.  ;  festivi¬ 
ties  at  château  of,  30  et  seq.  ; 


206 


INDEX 


natural  disadvantages  of,  34,  35  ; 
Louis  XIV. ’s  fondness  for,  30,  34  ; 
the  enlargements  at,  36-38;  the 
King’s  apartments  at,  36,  37  ;  the 
Queen’s  apartments  at,  37  ;  de¬ 
scription  of  the  palace,  38,  39; 
much  altered  by  posterity,  129 
et  seq,  ;  the  grand  apartment  in, 


139  ;  compared  to  Saint-Cyr,  158, 
159. 

Victoire,  Marie  Anne  Christine. 

See  Bavarian  Dauphiness. 
Voltaire,  quoted,  194,  244. 

Women  of  Versailles,  general  re» 
view  of,  12-27. 


944.035  15  2W 


218574 


